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SCIENCE  FOR  THE  YOUNG; 

OR, 

THE  FUNDAMENTAL   PRINCIPLES   OF  MODERN  PHILOSOPHY 
EXPLAINED  AND  ILLUSTRATED 

IN 

CONVERSATIONS  AND  EXPERIMENTS, 

AND    IN 

NARRATIVES  OF  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE  BY  YOUNG 
PERSONS  IN  PURSUIT  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


VOL.  III.— WATER  AND  LAND. 


THE   FBESI 


SCIENCE  FOR  THE  YOUNG. 


WATER  AND   LAND. 


BY    JACOB    ABBOTT, 


'THE   FRANCONIA   STORIES,"    "MARCO   PAUL   SERIES,"    "YOUNG 

CHRISTIAN    SERIES,"    "HARPER'S    STORY   BOOKS," 

"ABBOTT'S  ILLUSTRATED  HISTORIES,"  &c. 


WITH  NUMEROUS  ENGRA  VINGS. 


I  0  2.43 


NEW    YORK: 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871,  by 

HARPER   &   BROTHERS, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


1G  3 
A)3 

OBJECT  OF  THE  WORK. 

THE  object  of  this  series,  though  it  has  been  prepared 
with  special  reference  to  the  young,  and  is  written  to  a 
considerable  extent  in  a  narrative  form,  is  not  mainly  to 
amuse  the  readers  with  the  interest  of  incident  and  ad- 
venture, nor  even  to  entertain  them  with  accounts  of  cu- 
rious or  wonderful  phenomena,  but  to  give  to  those  who, 
though  perhaps  still  young,  have  attained,  in  respect  to 
their  powers  of  observation  and  reflection,  to  a  certain 
degree  of  development,  some  substantial  and  thorough 
instruction  in  respect  to  the  fundamental  principles  of 
the  sciences  treated  of  in  the  several  volumes.  The  pleas- 
ure, therefore,  which  the  readers  of  these  pages  will  de- 
rive from  the  perusal  of  them,  so  far  as  the  object  which 
the  author  has  in  view  is  attained,  will  be  that  of  under- 
standing principles  which  will  be  in  some  respects  new 
to  them,  and  which  it  will  often  require  careful  attention 
on  their  part  fully  to  comprehend,  and  of  perceiving  sub- 
sequently by  means  of  these  principles  the  import  and 
significance  of  phenomena  occurring  around  them  which 
had  before  been  mysterious  or  unmeaning. 

In  the  preparation  of  the  volumes  the  author  has  been 
greatly  indebted  to  the  works  of  recent  European,  and 
especially  French  writers,  both  for  the  clear  and  succinct 
expositions  they  have  given  of  the  results  of  modern  in- 
vestigations and  discoveries,  and  also  for  the  designs  and 
engravings  with  which  they  have  illustrated  them. 


CONTENTS 


I.  PROGRESSIVE    CONDITION   OF   THE   PLANET 13 

ii.  DOLPHIN'S  GRAVE 27 

"  III.   ACTION   OF   RIVERS 34  - 

IV.   DORRIE 41 

V.   THE    MISSISSIPPI 52 

VI.  GENERAL   CHARACTER   OF   ALLUVIAL   FORMATIONS 65 

VII.  THE   VALLEY   OF   THE   NILE 73 

VIII.  THE   TREE   ON   THE    BANK 83 

IX.  RAIN 96 

X.  RAVINES 107 

XI.  THE    PLUVIAMETER 114 

XII.  MINUTE    PHILOSOPHY 121 

XIII.  EFFECTS   OF    RAIN 131 

XIV.  THE    GEOLOGICAL   CABINET 143 

XV.  THE   EXCURSION 153 

XVI.   LECTURE    IN   A   WAGON 157 

XVII.  THE   REST   OF   THE    LECTURE 169 

XVIII.  GREAT   RESULTS 189 

XIX.  TRAVELING   BY   PROGRAMME 205 

XX.   LECTURE    IN-  A   CAK 217 

XXI.  THE    8ALTNESS   OF   THE   SEA 234 

XXII.  SOLUBILITY    AND    INSOLUBILITY 249  .  '" 

XXIII.  LIFE   IN   THE    SEA 268 

XXIV.  UPHEAVAL 287 

/     XXV.  MOUNTAINS   AND   VALLEYS 302*' 

XXVI.  CONCLUSION 321 

A2 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Pag. 

The  Freshet Frontispiece. 

The  Squirrel's  Worlfl 15 

Wp^ir^g  a.W«y  thp  f'and 20 

View  from  Mount  Holyoke 22 

Half  a  Mile  of  the  Pharpar,  a  River  near  Damascus 24 

Burying  Dolphin 31 

Ancient  Channel  of  the  River 36 

"  It  was  just  about  here" 47 

Morass  in  Winter 55 

Tropical  Morass 59 

Big  Snags 61 

Alluvial  Forest  in  the  Tropics 67 

The  Nile  issuing  from  Lake  N'yanza 75 

Ru^ns  in  Egypt 79 

Cutting  it  down  to  save  it 85 

Brink  not  worn  away 96 

Fall  in  South  America 104 

A  sloping  Fall 105 

Ravines  in  a  Talus Ill 

The  Signal  Service  Office  at  Washington  120 

Life  and  Work  of  a  River 139 

The  Steps  of  the  Montmorenci 142 

An  Icy  Fall 144 

Scene  in  the  Mammoth  Cave 162 

Stalactites  and  Stalagmites 164 

Great  vertical  Fissures 171 

Distant  view  of  a  Glacier 173 

Transportation  of  Rocks  by  Glaciers,  as  shown  by  Agassiz 175 

Toad  Rock 178 

Enormous  Block  brought  down  by  a  Glacier 1 79 

Water-work 183 

Formation  of  an  Island  in  the  Amazon 200 


xil  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Ff 

Destruction  of  an  Island  in  the  Amazon 202 

In  the  Car 214 

River  bringing  Supplies 221 

Currents  of  the  Atlantic 223 

A  Cliff  of  the  great  Salt  Range. 257 

View  in  a  Salt  Mine 262 

Forms  of  Life  in  the  Sea 268 

Brookes'  Sounding  Apparatus 272 

View  of  an  Atoll 276 

Cliffs  of  Chalk,  on  the  Coast  of  England 282 

Specimen  of  floating  Sea-weed  from  the  Sea  of  Sargassa 285 

Effects  of  Upheaval 288 

Hills  and  Valleys  produced  by  Upheaval 289 

Formation  of  attractive  Scenery 29f 

Formation  of  wilder  Scenery 295 

Formation  of  Caverns  by  the  Sea 297 

Shores  formed  from  Strata  of  Gravel 299 

Mountains  and  Man 303 

Formation  of  Plains 307 

Formation  of  Peaks 309 

Tendency  to  break  into  Blocks 310 

Chasm  among  the  Mountains  of  Dauphiny 313 

Submarine  Volcano 315 

Taking  an  Observation 323 

The  Evening  Visit 327 


O  2.49 


CHAPTER  I. 

PROGEESSIVE    CONDITION    OF  THE    PLANET. 

THE  true  scientific  way  to  study  the  natural  history  of 
the  earth  would  seem  to  be  to  examine  attentively  the 
state  in  which  we  find  it  at  the  present  time,  with  a  view 
to  observing  the  processes  and  movements  which  are  now 
going  on,  and  from  these  to  work  backward  as  far  as  we 
can  go,  in  order  to  ascertain  what  such  observations  can 
teach  us  in  respect  to  the  extent  of  the  changes  through 
which  it  has  passed  in  former  ages,  and  the  manner  in 
which  they  have  been  effected. 

A  bird,  when  she  builds  a  nest,  does  not  begin  to  occupy 
it  until  it  is  finished.  It  is  true  that  it  is  subject  to  cer- 
tain gradual  changes  after  its  completion.  The  materials 
become  darkened  by  the  action  of  the  air  upon  them.  A 
straw  falls  out  here  and  thei*e,  and  the  rain  may  soften  and 
wear  away  some  of  the  clay  with  which  it  is  cemented. 
But  these  changes  are  slight,  and  do  not  affect  the  struc- 
ture itself  in  any  radical  manner.  The  dwelling  remains, 
during  all  the  time  it  is  occupied  by  the  bird,  in  substan- 
tially the  same  condition  that  it  had  attained  when  the 
bird  finished  the  building  of  it. 


14  PROGRESSIVE    CONDITION    OF   THE    PLANET. 

The  case  is  very  different  with  the  habitation  of  the 
squirrel  when  he  chooses,  as  he  often  does,  for  his  habita- 
tion a  living  tree — an  ancient  oak,  for  example,  which  has 
stood  for  centuries.  A  gale  of  wind  tears  off  a  branch 
from  this  tree.  The  water  of  the  rains  insinuates  itself 
into  the  pores  of  the  exposed  wood,  and  a  process  of  decay 
is  commenced.  The  woodpeckers,  in  search  of  the  insects 
which  constitute  their  food,  peck  out  the  decayed  wood  as 
fast  as  it  forms,  and  in  process  of  time  a  cavity  is  produced. 
A  squirrel  finds  it,  and  at  once  resolves  to  make  that  tree 
his  home,  with  the  view  of  using  the  cavity  as  the  bed- 
chamber for  his  mate,  the  nursery  for  his  children,  and  the 
magazine  for  his  stores.  Here  the  mother  squirrel  rears 
her  young ;  and  as  the  nuts  ripen  on  the  branches  in  the 
fall,  the  parents  gather  and  bring  them  in,  and  carefully 
store  them. 

Now  if  the  squirrels  were  of  a  reflective  and  philosoph- 
ical turn  of  mind,  and  had  as  much  intelligence  as  one 
would  think  squirrels  ought  to  have,  as  the  foundation  of 
the  forethought  and  thrift  they  display  in  laying  up  so 
prudently  their  winter  stores,  they  might  imagine  that 
while  they  observe  a  gradual  change  in  the  leaves,  and  in 
the  growth  and  ripening  of  the  nuts,  that  the  tree  itself,  in 
respect  to  the  size  and  condition  of  its  trunk,  and  the  forms 
and  positions  of  its  branches,  was  fixed  and  unchangeable. 
If  their  parents  lived  in  that  tree,  and  if  any  thing  like  his- 
tory or  tradition  had  come  from  them  or  from  any  of  the 
previous  generations,  it  would  contain  unquestionably  no 
reference  to  any  change  in  the  size  or  form  of  the  trunk,  or 
of  any  of  the  principal  branches  of  the  tree.  The  squirrel 
population  might  very  probably  have  observed  the  change 
in  the  form  and  appearance  of  the  leaves,  and  the  gradual 
development  and  ripening  of  the  fruit,  but  they  would  look 
upon  the  tree  itself  as  permanent  and  unchangeable. 


TIIE  SQCIEBEL'S  WORLD. 


HOME    OF   THE    SQUIKBEL.  17 

And  yet  the  tree,  with  its  monstrous  trunk,  and  its 
gnarled  and  gigantic  roots,  and  its  wide-spreading  top, 
was  once  an  acorn  lying  unseen  in  the  ground,  and  every 
one  of  its  massive  branches  was  developed  from  a  bud  at 
first  almost  invisible  in  its  minuteness.  The  whole  of  the 
immense  growth  and  expansion  to  which  the  tree  had  at- 
tained had  been  the  effect  of  a  series  of  changes  precisely 
similar  in  character,  and  no  more  rapid  or  violent  in  their 
rate  of  progress  than  those  which  were  still  going  on. 

Such  a  tree,  when  we  see  it  standing  in  the  forest,  and 
occupied  by  the  family  of  squirrels  as  we  have  described 
it,  notwithstanding  its  seeming  state  of  quiescence  and  re- 
pose, is  really,  while  we  stand  viewing  it,  growing  and 
changing  as  fast  as  ever.  A  new  layer  of  wood  is  in  pro- 
cess of  formation  over  every  part  of  it  under  the  squirrel's 
feet.  The  branches  are  gradually  extending  themselves 
in  every  direction.  New  roots  are  in  process  of  formation 
under  ground.  Small  branches  are  dying  from  time  to 
time,  and  are  carried  away  by  the  wind.  New  cavities 
are  beginning  to  be  formed  by  the  infiltration  of  water  and 
consequent  decay,  which  in  process  of  time  will  become  the 
homes  of  squirrels  of  future  generations.  The  bark  of  the 
tree  is  gradually  abraded  and  washed  away ;  and,  in  a 
word,  the  tree  which  constitutes  the  squirrel's  little  world 
is  going  through,  during  their  lifetime,  as  rapid  a  progress 
of  change  as  it  has  been  ever  subjected  to,  while  they  them- 
selves are  wholly  unconscious  of  it,  but  look  upon  their 
tree,  in  connection  with  the  other  trees  in  the  forest  around 
them,  as  constituting  a  universe  finished  and  unchangeable. 

Now  our  situation  as  inhabitants  of  this  earth  is  in 
many  respects  substantially  the  same  with  that  of  the 
squirrels  upon  their  tree.  We  see  certain  obvious  changes 
going  on  in  the  condition  of  things  around  us,  such  as  for- 
ests growing  or  being  cut  down,  coasts  in  certain  places 


18  PROGRESSIVE    CONDITION    OF    THE    PLANET. 

wearing  away,  and  now  and  then  a  land-slide  on  a  small 
scale,  or  a  piece  of  ground  rising  or  subsiding  under  the 
shock  of  an  earthquake.  We  are  apt  to  think  that  such 
local  and  limited  changes  as  these,  which  appear  to  us 
somewhat  in  the  form  of  sudden  and  extraordinary  catas- 
trophes, are  all  to  which  the  earth  is  subject;  while  all  the 
time  these  are  really  only  the  symptoms,  and  the  occasion- 
al special  results  of  a  vast  process — sufficient,  if  we  take 
the  immense  duration  of  it  into  account,  to  produce  results 
of  inconceivable  magnitude  and  grandeur. 

For  a  long  period,  that  is,  during  many  centuries  of  the 
earth's  history,  mankind  were  wholly  unconscious  of  the 
magnitude  of  the  changes  which  were  taking  place  around 
them.  In  recent  times,  however,  scientific  men  have  turn- 
ed their  attention  very  specially  to  the  observation  of  these 
changes,  and  the  world  is  surprised  at  the  extent  of  the 
action  which  is  every  where  going  on,  irresistibly  though 
slowly,  and  at  the  vastness  of  the  effects  which  the  same 
causes,  operating  precisely  as  they  are  operating  now, 
must  have  produced  in  times  past,  as  well  as  of  those 
which  they  must  produce  if  they  continue  their  operation 
in  time  to  come. 

It  is  as  if  the  squirrels  had  in  some  way  suddenly  found 
out  that  their  tree  was  all  the  time  growing  —  growing, 
too,  in  such  a  way  and  at  such  a  rate  as  would  be  suffi- 
cient, with  time  enough,  to  have  produced  the  whole  im- 
mense mass  of  it  from  even  so  small  a  thing  as  an  acorn, 
without  at  any  time  changing  its  form  any  more  rapidly 
than  it  was  actually  changing  it  then,  at  the  time  when 
they  first  began  to  observe  it,  nor  in  any  essentially  differ- 
ent way. 

Not  that  the  kind  of  change  which  is  taking  place  now 
all  the  time  in  the  structure  and  condition  of  the  earth  is  a 
process  of  growing  analogous  to  that  of  a  tree.  The  only 


RETURN    OF   LAWRENCE    AND   JOHN.  19 

analogy  between  the  case  of  the  earth  and  the  tree  here 
referred  to  is,  that  a  great  and  constant,  though  very  slow 
change  is  taking  place  in  both.  In  the  case  of  the  tree  it 
is  a  process  of  vegetable  growth.  In  that  of  the  earth  it 
is  something  entirely  different,  as  we  shall  presently  see. 

Lawrence  and  his  cousin  John,  at  the  time  of  the  com- 
mencement of  this  story,  were  returning  from  an  absence 
of  some  time  in  Europe.  They  were  going  to  their  home 
in  a  town  which  I  shall  call  Carleton,  which  was  situated 
among  the  mountains  of  New  England.  Lawrence  had 
completed  his  course  of  study  at  the  scientific  school  at 
New  Haven,  and  was  going  to  spend  the  winter  at  his 
home  in  Carleton,  for  the  purpose  of  continuing  his  studies 
during  the  winter  by  a  course  of  reading  which  he  had 
marked  out  for  himself.  John,  who  was  still  comparative- 
ly young,  was  going  to  continue  his  studies  too,  as  a  pupil 
of  a  family  school  not  far  from  his  father's  house.  It  was 
a  boarding-school  for  most  of  the  pupils,  though  John,  by 
special  privilege,  was  going  as  a  day-scholar,  by  which  ar- 
rangement he  would  be  allowed  the  privilege  of  spending 
the  evenings  and  nights  at  home. 

On  their  way  into  the  country  from  New  York  after 
their  arrival  from  abroad,  Lawrence  had  given  John  some 
information  in  respect  to  the  work  done  by  rivers.  Rivera 
are,  in  fact,  to  be  classed  among  the  busiest,  and,  in  some 
respects,  perhaps,  the  most  powerful  agencies  in  nature  in 
producing  the  vast  changes  which  are  all  the  time  taking 
place  in  the  structure  and  conformation  of  the  globe. 
There  are  four  grand  operations  which  they  are  all  the 
time  carrying  on. 

First,  they  are  incessantly  engaged  in  disintegrating  and 
leveling  the  mountains,  and  wearing  away  the  rocks,  and 
conveying  the  materials  which  form  them  ultimately  into 
the  sea. 


20  PROGRESSIVE    CONDITION    OF   THE    PLANET. 


WEARING   AWAY   TUB   LAND. 


Secondly,  in  employing  these  materials  by  the  way  in 
filling  up  all  the  hollows  and  depressions  in  the  land  which 
they  meet  with  on  their  course,  and  forming  them  into  fer- 
tile plains.  These  plains  are  called  alluvial,  because  they 
are  formed  by  the  action  of  rivers. 

Thirdly,  in  spreading  over  these  plains,  and  over  all  oth- 
er lands  that  they  can  reach  by  their  inundations,  a  very 
fertilizing  deposit,  which  vastly  increases  the  products  of 
fruits  and  grain  for  the  use  of  man. 

Fourthly,  in  furnishing  power,  by  means  of  waterfalls 
and  cascades  on  their  way,  to  aid  man  in  grinding  his 
corn,  and  in  manufacturing  his  clothing  and  the  imple- 
ments that  he  uses  in  the  cultivation  of  the  ground. 

Thus  the  river  is  one  of  the  greatest  friends  of  the  suc- 
cessive generations  of  farmers  that  live  upon  its  banks. 
Water  gradually  wears  down  and  carries  away  the  sub- 


TORTUOUS   COURSE    OF   THE    RIVER.  23 

stance  of  the  mountains  so  as  to  form,  ultimately,  in  the 
region  which  they  occupied,  a  gently  undulating  country, 
fitted  for  the  occupation  of  man  in  future  years ;  and,  in 
the  mean  time,  by  the  use  of  the  materials  thus  procured, 
it  fertilizes  the  grounds,  and  by  its  force  does  the  work  of 
generations  now  existing;  and,  finally,  by  spreading  out 
these  materials  over  the  bottom  of  the  sea  in  smooth  and 
extended  layers,  it  lays  the  foundation  of  vast  tracts  of  new 
country  for  ages  yet  to  come. 

Sometimes  the  river  does  a  little  too  much.  In  his  zeal, 
as  it  would  seem,  to  fertilize  as  widely  as  possible  the  lands 
through  which  he  flows,  he  raises  his  waters  too  high,  and 
damages,  or  bears  away,  property  which  the  owner  had 
left  too  much  exposed ;  but,  on  the  whole,  his  action  is 
wonderfully  beneficial  to  man. 

There  is  one  very  remarkable  phenomenon  connected 
with  the  flow  of  rivers  which  produces  effects  that  often 
attract  the  attention,  and  even  excite  the  wonder  of  peo- 
ple who  observe  it,  and  that  is  the  extremely  tortuous 
course  of  the  channel  by  which  it  flows  through  the  allu- 
vial lauds  which  it  has  itself  formed.  In  the  course  of  the 
journey  which  Lawrence  and  John  made  in  going  from 
New  York  to  their  home  in  New  England,  they  stopped  at 
Northampton  for  the  purpose  of  going  halfway  up  Mount 
Holyoke,  in  order  to  obtain  a  view  of  the  remarkable  wind- 
ings of  the  Connecticut  among  the  broad  and  beautiful 
meadows  which  it  has  formed  there,  and  which  are  now 
comprised  between  the  towns  of  Northampton  and  Had- 
ley.  One  would  suppose  that  a  river,  in  filling  up  a  lake 
or  pond  formed  by  a  depression  of  the  land  in  its  course, 
would  keep  open  for  itself  a  straight,  or  nearly  straight 
channel  through  the  centre  of  it ;  and  that,  even  if  the 
channel  should  by  any  accident  become  curved,  the  flow  of 
the  waters  would  tend  to  cut  off  the  projecting  parts,  and 


24  PROGRESSIVE    CONDITION    OF    THE    PLANET. 

to  fill  up  the  hollows,  so  as  soon  to  make  it  straight  again. 

In  actual  fact,  the  tendency  is  just  the  contrary  of  this. 
The  flow  of  the  river  tends  always  to  excavate  and  under- 
mine the  banks  in  all  those  places  where  they  are  concave 
toward  the  water,  and  to  build  them  out  by  fresh  deposits 
at  all  the  projecting  portions,  so  that  the  river,  instead 
of  straightening  itself  if  it  had  been  oi'iginally  crooked, 
would  be  sui-e  to  crook  itself  if  it  had  been  originally  made 
straight. 

The  consequence  is,  that  every  river  in  that  part  of  its 
course  where  it  flows  through  smooth  and  level  lands, 
which  it  has  itself  formed  by  filling  ancient  lakes,  or  in  the 
broad  expanse  of  the  valley  through  which  it  flows,  makes 
for  itself  an  extremely  tortuous  course,  which  it  is  continu- 
ally changing,  but  which  it  never  makes  straight.  You 
see  this  in  looking  at  the  map  of  the  Mississippi,  or  of  any 
other  river  flowing  through  alluvial  lands,  and  in  the 
course  of  brooks  flowing  through  such  lands,  and  of  creeks 
in  salt  marshes  near  the  sea. 


I1ALF  A   MILE   OP  THE   PHABFAB,  8  fiver  DCEF  DamaSCUS.* 

The  reason  for  this  extraordinary  sinuosity  in  the  course 
of  such  streams  is  this  mainly,  that  the  water,  in  coming 
down  through  one  curve  in  the  channel,  gets  a  set  which 
throws  the  strength  of  the  current  away  over  into  the  hol- 
low of  the  next  curve,  and  cuts  deeper  and  deeper  into  it, 
while  it  leaves  the  projecting  curve  or  point  on  the  other 
side  undisturbed,  and  even  builds  it  out  farther  and  far- 
ther by  depositing  sand  and  gravel  upon  it,  and  in  the 
eddy  just  below  it.  Even  if  the  river  had  a  straight  chan- 
nel to  begin  with,  so  that  there  was  no  curve  above  to 
*  As  given  by  the  author  of  the  Rob  Roy  on  the  Jordan. 


PROCESS    OF   UNDERMINING.  25 

set  the  current  over  into  the  curve  below,  the  water  would 
soon  begin  to  make  one.  A  stone,  a  root,  the  smallest  in- 
dentation or  irregularity  in  the  bank  on  one  side  would 
suffice  for  a  beginning.  No  matter  how  slight  the  cause 
for  a  deflection  on  one  side,  it  would  soon  begin  to  pro- 
duce a  greater  one  on  the  other  side,  a  little  lower  down, 
and  this  a  still  greater  one  still  lower;  and  thus  the  stream, 
even  if  artificially  made  straight,  would  soon  become  as 
crooked  as  ever. 

And  now  comes  a  still  more  curious  part  of  the  process 
by  which  the  condition  of  things  in  such  cases  is  sustain- 
ed, and  that  is,  that  as  the  water,  in  sweeping  around  un- 
der the  banks  in  each  curve,  undermines  them  most,  of 
course,  in  the  part  that  is  farthest  down,  the  whole  curve 
itself  is,  as  it  were,  gradually  carried  down  the  stream,  and 
the  set  of  the  current  to  the  opposite  bank  is  carried  far- 
ther down  too.  Thus  the  whole  system  of  curves,  and  the 
points  or  convex  portions  alternating  with  them,  is  carried 
gradually  down.  This  process  is  very  slow.  It  takes 
sometimes  many  years  to  make  any  very  decided  change 
in  the  form  of  the  farmer's  fields  bordering  upon  the  river. 
He  notices  that  a  few  feet  are  carried  away  every  year, 
and,  if  he  lives  long  upon  the  same  farm,  he  remembers 
that,  since  the  days  of  his  childhood,  the  change  has  been 
very  great.  In  some  cases,  however,  especially  in  large 
rivers,  the  process  is  so  slow  that  it  requires  more  than  a 
generation  to  produce  any  very  decidedly  perceptible  ef- 
fects. Still  the  change  is  going  on,  and  it  will  go  on,  un- 
less something  takes  place  to  arrest  it,  forever. 

Thus  the  whole  material  of  sand  and  soil  of  which  the 
meadows  of  such  rivers  are  composed  is  worked  over  con- 
tinually by  the  current  of  the  stream,  each  portion  of  it,  at 
every  move,  being  borne  a  little  farther  down,  and  is  des- 
tined, in  the  end,  to  be  all  carried  out  to  sea ;  but  then 
B 


26  PROGRESSIVE    CONDITION    OF   THE    PLANET. 

the  river  is  all  the  time  bringing  down  from  the  muontains 
and  hills  above  fresh  supplies  of  sand  and  soil  to  repair 
the  wastes.  These  the  waters  in  freshets  and  inundations 
spread  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  meadows.  These 
fresh  deposits  are  left  in  the  low  places  first,  and  in  ancient 
and  deserted  portions  of  the  channel.  The  meadows  that 
are  already  high  are  not  reached  except  by  the  highest  in- 
undations, which  are  comparatively  rare.  The  low  places 
are  of  course  filled  fastest,  and  thus  the  tendency  is  to 
bring  all  up  to  the  same  level. 

Thus,  although  the  whole  region  is  in  course  of  being 
undermined  and  washed  away,  and  finally  carried  off  to 
sea,  the  process  is  so  slow,  and  the  waste  is  so  constantly, 
though  gradually  and  gently  repaired  by  fresh  materials 
brought  down  from  above,  that  trees  grow,  and  fields  are 
cultivated,  and  land  is  bought  and  sold,  and  generations 
live  and  pass  away,  while  none  but  careful  observers  have 
any  adequate  ideas  of  the  extent  of  the  change  which  is 
taking  place,  and  which  is  really  carrying,  all  the  time,  the 
ground  away  from  under  them. 


FIRST   IMPRESSION.  27 


CHAPTER  H. 

DOLPHIN'S  GRAVE. 

WITHIN  a  very  few  days  after  Lawrence  and  John  ar- 
rived at  their  respective  homes,  they  took  a  walk  together 
down  to  the  river  to  see  whether  they  could  perceive  any 
indications  of  such  changes  in  the  flow  of  the  water  and  in 
the  conformation  of  the  banks  as  Lawrence  had  described. 
In  making  this  excursion,  Lawrence,  who  lived  in  the  vil- 
lage with  his  mother,  called  for  John,  as  there  was  a  kind 
of  cart-road  leading  from  near  the  house  where  John  lived 
down  to  the  river.  This  road,  after  descending  from  the 
upland,  passed  across  some  green  meadows,  and  then,  after 
traversing  a  sandy  place  overgrown  with  bushes,  went 
down  to  the  water's  edge.  It  was  worn  partly  by  the  cat- 
tle that  went  down  there  sometimes  for  water,  and  partly 
by  the  wheels  of  carts  which  were  sent  there  from  time  to 
time  to  procure  sand  for  various  purposes. 

This  road  came  down  to  the  river  on  the  western  side  of 
it,  so  that,  in  standing  upon  the  bank  and  looking  across 
the  river,  the  spectator  was  looking  toward  the  east. 

"  Xo,"  said  John,  as  soon  as  he  and  Lawrence  drew  near 
to  the  edge  of  the  water,  "there  has  not  been  any  change 
at  all.  Every  thing  here  is  just  as  it  always  was." 

"  Exactly  ?"  asked  Lawrence. 

"  Yes,"  replied  John.  "  Here  is  the  same  sandy  beach, 
with  pebbles  on  the  bottom  near  the  shore,  and  the  same 
caving  bank  on  the  other  side.  Even  the  bushes  here  are 
of  just  the  same  size  that  they  always  were,  and  the  edge 
of  the  water  is  just  as  far  from  the  edge  of  the  bushes." 


28  DOLPHIN'S  GRAVE. 

"And  how  long  is  it  since  you  were  here  ?"  asked  Law- 
rence. 

"  Why,  it  must  be  as  much  as  two  years,"  replied  John. 
"  You  see  I  was  away  at  school.  It  is  more  than  two 
years,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's  thought, "  and  that  is 
time  enough  for  the  place  to  have  made  change  enough  for 
us  to  see  it,  if  it  is  going  to  change  at  all." 

"  That  is  not  certain,"  replied  Lawrence.  "A  very  great 
change  may  be  going  on,  and  yet  it  may  make  progress  so 
slowly  that  two  hundred  years  would  be  required  to  pro- 
duce any  visible  effect.  We  have  to  expand  our  ideas  a 
good  deal  in  respect  to  time  when  we  commence  studying 
the  changes  taking  place  in  the  structure  of  the  earth." 

Now  John  was  right  in  his  decision  that  the  river  was 
just  as  it  was  when  he  last  saw  it — about  two  years  before 
— so  far  as  the  most  obvious  appearances  were  concerned. 
The  sandy  beach  had  the  same  slope,  and  presented  the 
same  aspect  as  before.  There  were  bushes  of  the  same  ap- 
parent size  growing  at  about  the  same  distance  from  it,  in- 
creasing gradually  in  size  as  they  receded  from  the  shore. 
On  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  there  was  apparently  the 
same  bank,  and  at  a  little  distance  from  it  a  very  large 
tree.  But  then  the  beach  had  extended  out  toward  the 
eastward,  that  is,  in  the  direction  of  the  channel  of  the  riv- 
er, about  eight  feet ;  the  bushes  which  John  saw  growing 
near  it  were  new  ones  that  had  sprung  up  that  summer; 
while  those  which  John  had  seen  before  had  grown  up  to 
be  trees  of  considerable  size. 

In  respect  to  the  great  elm  on  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
although  it  appeared,  from  the  point  where  John  stood  in 
viewing  it,  to  be  in  the  same  place  as  where  he  saw  it  be- 
fore, it  was  really  about  eight  feet  nearer  the  bank ;  or,  rath- 
er, the  bank  had  been  undermined  and  worn  away  until 
the  edge  of  it  had  been  brought  about  eight  feet  nearer 


CHANGES   IN  TEN   YEARS.  29 

the  tree.  Thus  the  whole  river  had  been  at  that  point  re- 
moved bodily,  as  it  were,  eight  feet  farther  to  the  east- 
ward ;  the  banks  having  been  changed  in  position  by  being 
gradually  built  out  on  one  side  and  abraded  on  the  other, 
while  yet  their  general  aspect  had  not  been  at  all  changed. 

"Even  the  very  bushes  have  not  changed,"  said  John. 
"They  are  just  as  large,  and  grow  just  as  near  the  water 
as  they  did  when  I  saw  them  two  years  ago." 

"And  I  know,"  said  Lawrence, "  from  that  very  fact,  that 
the  river  itself  has  changed  its  bed." 

"How  so?"  asked  John. 

"The  bushes  that  you  saw  two  years  ago,  of  just  the 
size  of  these,  must  have  grown  since  then.  These  must  be 
younger  ones  that  have  sprung  up  since.  Your  bushes 
must  be  somewhere  farther  back." 

So  saying,  Lawrence  looked  back  a  little  way.  The 
bushes  increased  in  size  as  their  distance  from  the  shore 
increased.  There  were  none  within  fifteen  or  twenty  feet 
of  the  water,  though  here  and  there  a  few  small  shrubs 
were  seen  springing  up  out  of  the  sand. 

Lawrence,  after  pausing  to  take  a  brief  survey  of  the 
ground,  walked  back  a  little  way  among  the  bushes  till  he 
came  to  where  they  were  about  sixteen  feet  high. 

"  There !"  said  he;  "I  should  think  that  somewhere  about 
hei-e  must  be  the  bushes  that  were  just  growing  up  two 
years  ago.  When  /  was  here  last  it  was  ten  years  ago, 
and  the  edge  of  the  water  must  have  been  then  back  thirty 
or  forty  feet  at  least.  I  remember  coming  down  here  with 
Dorrie  to  bury  Dolphin." 

"  Dolphin  ?"  said  John.     "  Who  was  Dolphin  ?" 

"  He  was  a  goldfish  that  Dorrie  and  I  had  in  our  aqua- 
rium," said  Lawrence.  "  You  see  I  made  a  kind  of  an 
aquarium  out  of  a  box.  I  put  a  pane  of  glass  in  on  one 
side,  so  that  we  could  look  in  and  see  the  '  polliwogs'  and 


30  DOLPHIN'S  GRAVE. 

little  fishes  that  we  used  to  catch  in  the  ponds  and  brooks, 
and  put  in. 

"At  last  ray  aunt  made  us  a  present  of  a  goldfish  to  put 
into  our  aquariurn,  and  we  were  greatly  pleased,  of  course. 
We  named  him  Dolphin,  arid  for  a  few  days  we  were  great- 
ly delighted  to  see  him  swimming  about.  But,  whether 
our  little  tank  was  too  small  for  him,  or  what  was  the  mat- 
ter, I  don't  know.  At  any  rate  he  died,  and  we  brought 
him  down  here  to  the  river  to  bury  him." 

"It  was  a  funny  idea  to  bring  him  here  to  be  buried," 
said  John. 

"Yes,"  replied  Lawrence;  "but,  being  a  fish,  we  thought 
that  perhaps  he  would  like  better  to  be  buried  near  the 
water,  so  we  tried  to  dig  a  grave  for  him  at  the  very 
edge  of  it.  The  nearer  the  better,  we  thought.  But  we 
could  not  succeed.  The  sand  and  the  water  came  in  fast- 
er than  we  could  get  it  out  with  our  little  shovels.  So  we 
thought  we  would  go  back  a  little  farther  from  the  shore, 
and,  as  we  found  it  rather  hard  digging  there,  I  went  up 
to  the  house  to  get  a  crowbar.  I  remember  what  a  hard 
tug  I  had  in  bringing  it  down.  I,  however,  succeeded  at 
last,  and  then  we  tried  to  dig  a  hole  with  it  a  little  way 
back  from  the  water.  I  set  the  point  of  the  bar  in  the 
sand,  and  soon  found,  on  working  it  back  and  forth,  this 
way  and  the  other,  that  it  was  gradually  settling  down 
into  the  sand.  I  was  very  much  pleased  to  see  it  going 
down  so  easily,  and  so  kept  on,  till  it  was  down  nearly 
one  half  its  length,  and  then  I  found  that  I  could  not  get 
it  out  again.  I  tried  very  hard,  but  it  would  not  come  up ; 
and  so  we  concluded  that  we  would  leave  it,  and  tell  some 
of  the  men  where  it  was  when  we  went  home,  and  let  them 
go  down  and  pull  it  out." 

"And  what  became  of  Dolphin  ?"  asked  John. 

"I  have  forgotten  what  became  of  Dolphin,"  said  Law- 


THE    IXTERMEXT. 


31 


BUEYLKG  DOLPHIN. 

rence.  "  We  played  about  there  some  time.  I  think  we 
must  have  buried  him  somehow  or  other,  but  I  don't  ex- 
actly remember.  It  must  have  been  ten  or  twelve  years 
ago.  I  don't  even  remember,  either,  what  we  did  in  regard 
to  the  crowbar.  I  should  not  wonder  if  we  forgot  all  about 
it." 

Lawrence's  surmise  was  correct.  They  had  forgotten 
all  about  it.  There  had  been  a  great  search  made  for  the 
missing  crowbar  by  the  men  on  the  farm,  and  finally  it  was 
given  up  for  lost,  and  a  new  one  was  procured  in  its  place. 
The  one  which  had  been  left  half  imbedded  in  the  sand 


32  DOLPHIN'S  GRATE. 

was  soon  rusted  by  the  weather,  which  made  it  look  like  a 
half-decayed  wooden  stake.  So  it  was  left  there  in  the 
place  where  the  children  had  placed  it,  and  there  now  Law- 
rence and  John,  in  rambling  around  among  the  bushes  a 
while,  at  a  considerable  distance  back  from  the  shore,  final- 
ly found  it. 

The  successive  layers  of  sand  that  the  river  had  left  in 
its  several  risings  during  the  ten  or  twelve  years  which 
had  elapsed  since  it  had  been  placed  there,  had  raised  the 
ground  around  it  so  high  that  there  was  now  only  a  length 
of  about  eight  inches  of  the  bar  above  the  ground.  Trees 
had  grown  up  around  it,  and  had  attained  to  considerable 
size.  Lawrence,  as  soon  as  he  discovered  the  end  of  the 
bar,  took  hold  of  it,  and  attempted  to  pull  it  up,  but  it 
was  perfectly  immovable. 

"  I  must  contrive  some  way  to  get  a  purchase  upon  it," 
said  Lawrence. 

So  Lawrence  and  John  went  together  to  the  house,  and 
there  Lawrence  procured  a  shovel,  a  trace-chain,  and  a  bar 
of  wood  like  a  handspike  to  serve  as  a  pry.  When  they 
had  returned  to  the  place,  Lawrence  dug  away  the  sand 
and  gravel  about  the  bar  down  for  about  two  feet  of  its 
length.  He  wound  the  chain  several  times  around  the 
portion  thus  laid  bare,  and  passed  the  end  of  the  hand- 
spike through  a  bight  in  it  which  he  made  for  the  purpose 
above,  by  hooking  the  end  in  a  link  a  little  way  below. 
He  then  brought  up  a  pretty  big  stone  for  a  fulcrum,  and 
placed  it  at  the  edge  of  the  hole  which  he  had  made  around 
the  bar,  placing  it  as  near  as  he  could  to  the  hole,  so  as  to 
bring  the  bearing  of  the  bar  upon  the  stone  as  near  as  pos- 
sible to  its  hold  upon  the  chain.  The  outer  end  of  the 
handspike  extended  upward  at  a  considerable  angle  into 
the  air. 

"  There,  now,  John,"  said  Lawrence,  "  bear  down  upon 


RECOVERY   OF   THE   BAR.  33 

the  outer  end  of  the  lever,  and  see  if  you  can  start  the 
crowbar." 

John  took  hold  of  the  outer  end  of  the  handspike,  and, 
by  bearing  down  with  all  his  force,  he  found  that  he  could 
raise  the  bar.  He  raised  it  about  two  inches,  though  to  do 
this  he  had  to  press  down  the  outer  end  of  the  bar  about 
two  feet. 

"  Yes,"  said  John,  in  quite  an  exultant  tone,  "  he's  com- 
ing." 

Lawrence  changed  the  hook  of  the  chain  so  as  to  get  a 
new  hold  for  the  inner  end  of  the  lever,  and  thus,  by  suc- 
cessive steps  of  the  process,  the  bar  was  at  length  brought 
entirely  out.  It  came  up  covered  through  its  whole  length 
with  a  rough  and  irregular  incrustation  of  sand  and  gravel, 
cemented  together  by  the  iron  rust  which  had  resulted 
from  the  corrosion  of  the  bar. 

"I  did  not  think  I  could  pull  it  up,"  said  John.  "I 
could  not  have  done  it  by  my  strength  alone." 

"  But  you  did  raise  it  by  your  strength  alone,"  said  Law- 
rence. 

"  I  had  the  pry,"  said  John. 

"  Yes,  but  there  is  no  strength  in  the  pry,"  said  Law- 
rence. "  The  pry  made  no  addition  to  your  strength.  It 
only  concentrated  it.  All  the  strength  of  your  arms,  in  a 
downward  motion  of  two  feet,  was  concentrated  in  an  up- 
ward motion  of  the  bar  of  not  more  than  two  inches." 

"  Is  that  it  ?"  asked  John. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lawrence, "  that  is  it  exactly.  There's  no 
such  thing  as  increasing  force  in  any  way,  by  any  kind  of 
contrivance  or  machinery.  We  can  only  direct  it,  or  dis- 
tribute it,  or  concentrate  it,  according  to  what  we  wish  to 
do  with  it." 

B2 


34  THE   ACTION    OF    RIVERS. 


CHAPTER  m. 

THE   ACTION    OF   RIVERS. 

THE  phenomena  of  river  action  in  changing  the  con« 
formation  of  the  land  through  which  it  flows,  which  Law- 
rence and  John  were  about  to  observe  in  one  of  its  feat- 
ures, on  a  small  scale,  near  where  they  lived,  is  constantly 
taking  place  on  the  grandest  scale  along  the  courses  of  all 
the  great  rivers  of  the  globe ;  and  not  only  on  this  grand 
scale  with  the  great  rivers,  but  also  on  a  small  scale  along 
the  course  of  every  mill-stream  and  brook,  and  even  of  ev- 
ery little  rivulet  that  is  set  in  motion  down  the  hills  by 
the  melting  of  the  snows  in  the  spring,  or  by  the  summer 
showers. 

They  all  begin  by  abrading  and  carrying  away  the  con- 
stituents of  the  higher  ground,  whether  rock,  or  gravel,  or 
loam.  With  these  they  first  fill  every  hollow,  or  depres- 
sion, or  widening  of  passage-way  open  to  their  flow,  leav- 
ing only  a  narrow  and  tortuous  channel  for  themselves. 
The  ground  which  they  thus  make,  which,  of  course,  is 
comparatively  level  and  smooth  upon  its  surface,  they 
work  over,  as  it  were,  continually,  taking  away  here  and 
reconstructing  there,  so  that  all  the  material  which  is 
brought  down  from  above  finds  only  a  temporary  and  con- 
stantly shifting  resting-place.  The  river,  by  its  ever-chang- 
ing windings,  takes  away  in  one  age  what  it  deposited  in 
the  preceding,  and  bears  it  farther  onward,  carrying  it 
finally  to  its  ultimate  destination,  which  is  to  form  an  ex- 
panded layer,  covering  for  hundreds,  and  sometimes  thou- 
sands of  miles,  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 


ANCIENT  CHANNEL  OF  THE   BIVER, 


THE    KIVEB   AMAZON.  37 

Sometimes  these  changes,  taking  place  in  the  windings 
of  a  river  through  the  alluvial  district  which  they  have 
themselves  previously  formed,  are  very  slow,  partly  from 
natural  causes,  and  partly  from  embankments,  and  jetties, 
and  other  artificial  means  adopted  in  densely  peopled  coun- 
tries to  confine  the  waters  to  one  unchanging  bed.  In 
other  cases  they  proceed  with  comparatively  great  rapidi- 
ty, and  produce  the  most  remarkable  effects.  We  shall 
have  occasion,  in  a  future  chapter,  to  consider  somewhat  in 
detail  the  action  of  two  particular  rivers,  which  may  be 
taken  as  striking  examples  respectively  of  these  two  class- 
es— the  Mississippi  and  the  Nile.  We  have  here  first  to 
consider  the  general  character  of  the  effects  in  respect  to 
changes  in  their  course,  witnessed  in  the  case  of  all  rivers 
flowing  through  alluvial  lands  which  they  themselves  seem 
to  have  formed. 

The  River  Amazon  affords  a  very  striking  exemplifica- 
tion of  the  general  character  of  these  effects.  It  flows 
through  a  region  of  low  and  level  alluvial  lands  about 
three  hundred  miles  wide  and  twelve  hundred  miles  long, 
and  through  this  whole  region  the  river  i  „  ists  and  turns 
iii  a  most  astonishing  manner.  Sometimes  it  takes  a  cir- 
cuit of  twenty  or  thirty  miles,  and  comes  back  nearly  to 
the  same  place  as  before,  thus  forming  an  immense  bow, 
with  a  very  narrow  neck,  which  it  would  seem  that  the 
river  could  very  easily  cut  through. 

In  the  end  it  generally  does  cut  through  such  a  division, 
sometimes  by  gradually  undermining  and  wearing  away 
the  banks  on  each  side  till  the  two  channels  come  togeth- 
er, and  sometimes  by  breaking  through  the  barrier  all  at 
once,  at  the  time  of  some  great  inundation.  In  such  a 
case  the  course  of  the  river  is  shortened ;  the  main  current 
flows  through  the  gap  newly  formed,  widening  and  deep- 
ening it  continually,  while  the  old  channel,  forming  the 


38  THE    ACTION    OF   1UVEKS. 

great  sweep  of  many  miles  circuit,  becomes  a  long  wind- 
ing lake  of  quiet  water.  This  lake  is  gradually  narrowed 
by  the  encroachments  of  vegetation  along  its  banks,  though 
this  process  is  so  slow  that  sometimes  for  many  years  it 
remains  navigable  for  the  people  who  live  upon  its  shores. 

In  process  of  time,  however,  the  river,  by  deposits  of 
sand  and  loam,  closes  up  the  entrance  and  egress  that  con- 
nect the  ancient  channel  with  the  river,  and  every  inunda- 
tion brings  down  trunks  of  trees  and  vast  quantities  of 
sediment,  which  gradually  fill  it  up ;  so  that  in  the  end, 
after  having  been  a  stagnant  lake  filled  with  amphibious 
and  aquatic  animals,  and  overhung  with  tangled  and  im- 
penetrable masses  of  vegetation  for  many  years,  it  becomes 
a  marsh  or  swamp,  and  finally  dry  land.  And  all  the  time 
that  this  change  has  been  going  on,  the  river  is  at  work  un- 
dermining and  wearing  away  the  banks  in  another  great 
sweep  in  the  vicinity,  preparing  the  way  for  another  such 
lake  in  centuries  to  come.  Thus  the  work  goes  on  for- 
ever. 

By  forever  I  mean  as  far  forward  into  futurity  as  we  can 
see ;  for  it  would  seem  that  unless  some  change  takes 
place  in  the  level  of  the  land,  there  is  nothing  that  can 
stop  the  process  until  all  the  land  around  the  sources  of 
the  river  is  disintegrated  and  abraded  by  the  frost  and  the 
rains,  and  carried  by  the  current  of  the  river  down  to  the 
sea. 

Sometimes  the  river,  in  cutting  across  a  neck  and  mak- 
ing for  itself  a  new  channel,  preserves  the  old  one  for  a 
century  or  two  for  a  part  of  its  flow,  thus  forming  an  isl- 
and. Sometimes  such  an  island  is  gradually  enlarged  by 
the  accretion  of  logs  and  bushes  brought  down  the  stream, 
and  by  the  sand  and  gravel  which  they  intei-cept  and  hold. 
Sometimes  it  gradually  diminishes  by  the  wearing  away 
of  its  banks,  until  at  last  it  entirely  disappears,  leaving  for 


COMPREHENSIVE    VIEW.  39 

the  coming  generation  only  a  sand-bank  to  mark  its  site. 
By  these  and  similar  changes,  in  process  of  time  the  whole 
country  through  which  flow  such  rivers  as  the  Mississippi 
and  the  Amazon,  for  a  breadth  of  many  miles  becomes  a 
perfect  maze  of  deserted  channels  and  crescent  -  shaped 
lakes,  and  long  and  narrow  stagnant  pools,  and  bogs  and 
swamps,  each  portion,  which  was  once  a  reach  of  the  riv- 
er, passing  regularly  and  surely,  though  very  slowly  in 
reference  to  the  life  of  man,  through  all  these  successive 
changes,  till  it  becomes  firm  and  solid  land  at  last,  covered 
with  dense  forests,  and  fertilized  each  year  by  the  deposits 
of  every  fresh  overflow.  It  remains  in  this  condition  until 
the  river,  in  its  never-ending  windings,  comes  to  the  place 
again,  undermines  the  forest  at  the  rate  often  or  twenty 
feet  a  year,  and  bears  away  sand,  gravel,  soil,  and  trees,  to 
be  used  in  new  constructions  far  below. 

Thus,  if  it  were  possible  for  us  to  raise  ourselves  into 
the  air  by  a  balloon,  and  take  a  view  of  one  of  the  great 
rivers,  and  could  compress  into  the  half  hour  of  our  survey 
of  it  the  duration  of  a  few  thousand  years,  we  should  see 
it  writhing  and  wriggling  through  its  valley  like  a  serpent, 
or  rather  like  a  brood  of  serpents — a  mother  and  her  young 
— twisting  and  turning  continually  this  way  and  that,  now 
dividing,  now  uniting,  now  sending  out  a  great  coil  to  the 
very  extreme  border  of  the  valley,  and  then  drawing  in 
again,  leaving  only  a  trace  upon  the  ground  formed  by  an 
opening  through  the  forest  of  vegetation,  which  opening, 
however,  would  soon  close  up  again  and  disappear.  We 
should  see  forests  continually  undermined  by  the  caving 
of  the  banks,  and  the  tangled  masses  of  trees  borne  down 
by  the  current  to  lodge  on  the  shoals  or  on  the  shores  be- 
low, and  islands  rising,  and  clothing  themselves  with  ver- 
dure and  beauty;  and  then,  after  a  brief  interval,  we  should 
see  them  sink  again  into  the  water  and  disappear. 


40  THE    ACTION   OP   RIVERS. 

We  can  see  the  curves  and  windings  of  the  great  rivers 
on  the  globe  which  flow  through  alluvial  districts  on  their 
way  from  the  mountains  to  the  sea  represented  more  or 
less  distinctly  on  our  maps,  provided  the  map  is  on  a  suffi- 
ciently large  scale.  When  it  is  on  but  a  small  scale  it 
shows  only  the  general  direction  of  the  stream,  with  imag- 
inary curves  drawn  at  random.  Thus,  in  the  case  of  the 
Mississippi,  only  the  general  curve  of  the  river  is  shown  in 
the  map  of  the  world.  In  the  map  of  the  United  States 
the  curves  are  more  distinctly  drawn ;  but  if  we  look  at  the 
map  of  any  of  the  particular  states  through  which  it  flows, 
especially  those  in  the  lower  portion  of  its  course,  we  see 
the  windings  much  more  fully  delineated,  and  many  of  the 
crescent-shaped  lakes  which  have  been  left  here  and  there 
in  the  deserted  channels  are  shown.  We  should  see  the 
same  in  the  case  of  all  rivers  and  streams  flowing  through 
alluvial  regions  if  we  could  have  maps  of  them  on  a  suffi- 
ciently large  scale. 

It  is  plain  that  the  amount  of  material  brought  down  by 
the  rivers  from  the  regions  where  they  arise,  to  enable  them 
to  maintain  incessantly  this  constant  action,  must  be  enor- 
mously large.  It  is  wonderful  how  they  can  continue  to 
procure  such  abundant  and  appai'ently  inexhaustible  sup- 
plies, especially  when  we  consider  that  the  supplies  must 
come  ultimately  from  the  disintegration  of  rocks  on  which 
we  should  at  first  suppose  that  the  action  of  water  alone 
could  have  very  little  eflect.  The  fact  is  that  they  are  aid- 
ed in  this  work  by  several  agencies,  which  operate  in  a 
very  remarkable  manner.  What  these  agencies  are,  and 
how  they  aid  the  river  to  obtain  its  regular  supplies  of  the 
enormous  quantity  of  material  required  to  enable  it  to  car- 
ry on  its  works,  we  shall  hereafter  see. 


DOLPHIN.  41 


CHAPTER  IV. 

DOEKIE. 

THE  person  whom  Lawrence  called  Dorrie,  and  who  had 
been  as  a  child  his  playmate  and  companion  in  the  time  of 
Dolphin,  was  now  a  young  lady.  Her  name  in  full  was 
Theodora  Random. 

Lawrence  had  not  seen  her  now  for  several  years.  She 
had  been  away  at  school,  and,  as.  their  respective  vacations 
had  come  at  different  times,  it  so  happened  they  had  not 
been  at  home  at  the  same  time  since  they  were  children. 
Lawrence,  however,  heard  soon  after  his  return  that  she 
was  in  town,  and  he  resolved  at  once  to  call  and  see  her. 

He  went  with  some  little  uncertainty  in  respect  to  the 
manner  in  which  she  would  receive  him — whether  coldly 
as  a  stranger,  or  in  a  familiar  and  friendly  manner,  in  rec- 
ognition of  the  common  feelings  and  sympathies  which  had 
bound  them  together  in  their  early  years.  Theodora  had 
been  at  a  large  and  fashionable  school,  and  had  acquired, 
as  Lawrence  had  heard,  a  great  many  accomplishments. 
He  heard,  moreover,  that  she  was  considered  a  very  fine 
girl,  and  was  every  where  much  admired. 

She  received  him  when  he  called  with  great  cordiality. 
She  expressed  surprise  to  see  how  much  he  had  grown, 
and  how  entirely  he  had  changed  in  becoming  a  man. 

In  the  course  of  conversation  Lawrence  asked  her  if  she 
remembered  the  burial  of  Dolphin,  and  informed  her  that 
he  and  John  had  a  day  or  two  before  discovered  the  crow- 
bar which  they  had  left  there,  and  which  had  remained 
Where  they  had  left  it  for  so  many  years ;  and  finally  it 


42  DORRIE. 

was  arranged  that  he  was  to  take  Miss  Random  down 
there  some  day  to  see  the  place,  and  to  observe  the  changes 
which  time  had  made  in  the  spot.  This  plan  was  accord- 
ingly carried  into  effect.  Lawrence  called  for  Miss  Ran- 
dom, and  they  went  together  down  to  the  river.  John  ac- 
companied them,  but  he  was  so  much  engaged  in  running 
this  way  and  that,  collecting  curiosities,  or  watching  the 
movements  of  squirrels  and  birds,  that  he  did  not  take 
much  part  in  the  conversation. 

"  So  you  have  been  to  Europe  since  I  saw  you !"  said 
Miss  Random.  "  I  should  like  to  be  in  Europe,  but  I  should 
not  dare  to  go — at  least  not  so  long  as  we  have  to  go  by 
water." 

"  Why  not  ?"  asked  Lawrence. 

"  Afraid  of  the  boiler's  bursting,  or  something,"  replied 
Miss  Random.  "  They  say  they  have  thirty  or  forty  fur- 
naces down  in  the  hold,  all  burning  furiously  day  and 
night,  and  half-nahod  men  all  the  time  shoveling  in  more 
coal.  I  think  it  must  be  dreadfully  dangerous  !" 

"  Yes,"  said  Lawrence, "  it  is — to  the  imagination." 

"  In  imagination  and  in  reality  too,"  said  Miss  Random. 
"  And  then,  besides,  think  of  the  storms  and  the  waves. 
The  waves,  I  hear,  run  as  high  as  mountains." 

"  They  must  be  very  small  mountains,  then,"  said  Law- 
rence, "  for  the  highest  waves  do  not  rise  more  than  fifteen 
feet  above  the  level." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Wollaston  !"  she  exclaimed. 

"It  is  fifteen  feet  above  the  level,  understand,"  said 
Lawrence.  "As  the  depression  of  the  surface  between 
two  waves  is  the  same,  it  makes  thirty  feet  in  all,  as  the 
whole  distance  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest  point." 

"  I  thought  they  were  a  great  deal  higher,"  said  Miss 
Random.  "  I  have  certainly  read  in  books  of  waves  run- 
ning mountains  high." 


IMAGINARY    DANGER.  43 

Just  at  this  point  John  came  back  and  began  walking 
along  by  Miss  Random's  side,  and  listened  to  the  conver- 
sation. She  looked  down  upon  him  with  a  kind  of  smile, 
which  showed  that  she  was  pleased  to  have  him  come,  and 
which  put  John  at  once  entirely  at  his  ease. 

"  And  besides,"  said  she,  "  think  of  being  cast  away  at 
sea,  and  all  huddling  into  an  open  boat,  and  being  out 
among  the  waves,  and  in  the  wind  and  rain,  till  you  are  al- 
most starved.  Isn't  it  awful  to  think  of?" 

"It  certainly  is — awful  to  think  of,"  replied  Lawrence; 
"  but  we  don't  think  of  such  things.  We  don't  allow  our- 
selves to  do  it.  And  that  is  the  difference  in  the  mode  of 
judging  between  young  ladies  and  men.  Young  ladies 
often  judge  in  such  cases  by  pictures  of  the  imagination 
which  they  form.  But  we  go  by  the  statistics." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?"  asked  Miss  Random. 

"Why,  here  is  this  Cunard  line,"  replied  Lawrence — "the 
one  by  which  John  and  I  crossed  the  Atlantic.  The  steam- 
ers of  this  line  have  been  going  to  and  fro  among  all  the 
icebergs,  and  through  all  the  waves,  and  fogs,  and  storms 
for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  at  the  rate  of  probably  four  voy- 
ages every  month,  and  I  don't  know  that  of  all  the  thou- 
sands upon  thousands  of  passengers  that  have  sailed  in 
them,  a  single  life  has  been  lost  in  them  by  the  dangers  of 
the  sea.  There  may  possibly  have  been  some  cases,  but, 
if  any,  they  must  have  been  very  few.  Thus  the  statistics 
show  that  the  actual  danger  is  exceedingly  small,  no  mat- 
ter what  dreadful  pictures  we  may  conjure  up  by  our  im- 
aginations." 

"They  contrive  such  dangerous  ways  of  traveling  now- 
adays," said  Miss  Random,  without  being  apparently  much 
impressed  by  Lawrence's  argument  from  the  statistics. 
"  Think  of  going  back  and  forth  between  London  and  Paris 
in  a  balloon  !" 


44  DOBEIE. 

This  conversation  took  place  at  the  time  that  Paris  was 
besieged  by  the  German  armies,  when  there  was  no  way 
by  which  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  could  escape,  or  could 
communicate  at  all  with  their  fellow-countrymen  except 
by  balloons. 

"  They  say,  too,"  continued  Miss  Random, "  that  you  are 
not  even  in  the  balloon,  but  are  only  hung  to  it  by  cords 
in  a  basket.  I  read  in  the  papers  that  they  are  getting  up 
an  air  line  between  New  York  and  Washington  !  I  never 
should  dare  go  by  it." 

"  Why,  Miss  Random  !"  exclaimed  John.  "  It  is  to  go 
on  the  ground,  just  like  any  other  railroad." 

"  Is  it  ?"  rejoined  Miss  Random.  "  I  thought  it  was  to 
go  somehow  through  the  air.  Besides,  my  name  is  not 
Miss  Random.  It  is  Dorrie — for  you.  Mr.  Wollaston  may 
call  me  Miss  Random,  if  he  pleases.  I  suppose  that  is 
more  proper.  But  Dorrie  is  my  name  for  my  friends  in 
general,  though  I  am  going  to  change  it  to  Lorrie,  and  so 
make  my  real  name  Laura  instead  of  Theodora,  which  I 
never  liked  at  all." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  get  it  changed  ?"  asked  John. 
"  You  will  have  to  go  to  the  Legislature." 

"  No,"  replied  Miss  Random, "  I  shall  just  change  it  my- 
self. It's  nobody's  business  but  mine." 

"  It  will  be  against  the  law,"  said  John. 

"I  don't  see  why,"  rejoined  Miss  Random.  "And,  be- 
sides, how  can  the  law  help  itself.  People  can't  be  pun- 
ished for  calling  me  any  thing  they  like,  unless  they  call 
me  something  that's  bad,  and  I'm  sure  /can't  be  punished 
for  being  called  any  thing  by  other  people." 

"  Well,  John,"  said  Lawrence,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
"  what  have  you  to  say  to  that  argument  ?"  John  did  not 
know  what  to  say,  except  that  he  always  thought  there 
law  against  people's  changing  their  names. 


TOMMY  AND   THE   WELL.  45 

By  this  time  the  party  had  arrived  at  the  place  where 
Lawrence  and  John  had  drawn  out  the  crowbar,  and  they 
showed  Miss  Dorrie  the  hole  from  which  it  had  been  taken, 
and  also  the  pieces  of  conglomerated  sand  and  pebbles 
which  they  had  knocked  off  from  the  bar  before  they  had 
carried  it  away. 

"  What  silly  things  we  were  in  those  days !"  said  Miss 
Random.  "  The  idea  of  burying  a  fish  close  to  the  water 
because  we  thought  he  would  like  it  better !  How  absurd ! 
But  this  was  not  the  place  where  AVC  buried  him.  "We 
made  the  grave  as  close  to  the  margin  of  the  water  as  we 
could  get  it — down  somewhere  here." 

So  saying,  Dorrie  walked  off  out  of  the  bushes  toward 
the  beach  and  the  water.  "  It  was  somewhere  about  here," 
she  said,  when  she  found  what  she  thought  was  the  right 
place.  "  It  was  not  more  than  three  steps  from  the  edge 
of  the  water." 

"  It  was  very  near  the  water  then"  said  Lawrence, "  but 
the  river  has  moved  since  then  as  much  as  two  or  three 
rods  to  the  eastward." 

"  The  river  has  moved  !"  exclaimed  Dorrie,  in  a  tone  of 
incredulity.  "That  reminds  me  of  my  cousin  Tommy. 
His  father,  my  uncle,  had  a  well  behind  his  house,  that  was 
just  outside  of  the  shed.  The  roof  of  the  shed  came  near 
it,  but  not  over  it.  At  last  my  uncle  had  the  top  extend- 
ed over  the  well,  and  the  first  time  that  Tommy  saw  the 
change  he  ran  into  the  house  and  told  his  mother  that  his 
father  had  had  the  well  moved  in  under  the  shed  !" 

They  all  laughed  together  at  this  story,  and  then  Miss 
Random  added, 

"  If  Tommy  was  here,  I  suppose  you  could  convince  him 
that  the  river  had  been  moved,  but  not  me." 

Miss  Dorrie  laughed  as  she  said  this  with  an  expression 
of  satisfaction  at  the  thought  that  she  was  not  easily  to  be 
deceived  against  the  evidence  of  her  senses. 


46  DOBRIE. 

"It  was  just  about  here,"  she  added,  pointing  with  her 
parasol  to  a  place  very  near  the  water. 

"  But  we  actually  found  the  iron  bar  in  there  among  the 
bushes,"  said  John, "  where  you  and  Lawrence  left  it." 

"  But  that  could  not  be  where  we  left  it,  child,  I  tell 
you,"  replied  Miss  Dorrie.  "  Somebody  must  have  pulled 
it  out  of  the  hole  we  made  for  it,  and  have  put  it  down  in 
another  place.  That  is  entirely  away  from  the  shore,  in 
the  woods ;  but  we  put  it  down  in  the  open  sand,  close  to 
the  shore.  Besides,"  she  added,  "  there's  that  big  tree  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river  just  as  far  from  the  bank  as  it 
used  to  be." 

"Exactly  ?"  asked  Lawrence. 

"Yes,"  replied  Miss  Random,  " exactly.  I  remember  ex- 
actly how  it  looked.  Besides,  we  used  to  go  over  there 
sometimes,  and  it  was  just  as  far  from  the  shore  as  it  is 
now.  The  river  is  not  any  nearer  to  it  than  it  always  was. 
The  bank  caves  in  a  little  now  and  then,  in  the  freshets,  I 
suppose,  but  as  to  the  whole  river  moving,  that's  impossi- 
ble." 

Just  then  Miss  Dome's  attention  was  attracted  by  a 
pretty  flower  that  her  eye  fell  upon,  and  she  at  once  gath- 
ered it,  and  then,  with  that  and  others,  began  forming  a 
bouquet.  Lawrence  and  John  helped  her  by  gathering 
flowers  and  bringing  them  to  her.  In  arranging  them,  she 
herself  sat  upon  a  smooth  trunk  of  a  tree  which  had  been 
floated  down  from  the  country  above  and  lodged  in  the 
bushes.  Some  of  the  flowers  which  Lawrence  and  John 
brought  her  she  added  to  her  bouquet,  and  some  she  re- 
jected, giving  them  the  reasons  in  each  case.  She  knew 
all  about  flowers,  she  said.  She  had  studied  them  a  great 
deal. 

She  did  indeed  know  a  great  deal  about  them,  but  her 
knowledge  was  chiefly  confined  to  their  sensible  qualities, 


LANGUAGE    OF   FLOWERS.  49 

and  to  the  common  names  by  which  they  were  called. 
She  knew  all  the  names,  she  said — all  except  the  botanical 
names,  which,  she  added,  she  did  not  know,  or  care  any 
thing  about.  She  knew  the  peculiar  fragrance  of  each 
flower,  and  the  time  that  each  would  remain  fresh,  and  she 
combined  the  colors  in  her  bouquet  in  a  charming  manner. 
After  she  had  finished  one  bouquet  she  began  another, 
which,  she  said,  was  for  John  to  carry  home  and  put  into 
one  of  his  mother's  vases. 

"I  don't  suppose  there  is  any  harm  in  my  making  a 
bouquet  for  you,  even  if  you  have  not  asked  me  to  do  it," 
she  said,  addressing  John. 

"  If  asking  makes  any  difference,"  said  Lawrence, "  I  will 
ask  you  to  make  one  for  me." 

"  Well,"  she  replied, "  I  will,  if  you  wish  it.  Only  I  shall 
have  to  be  very  particular  about  the  flowers  in  making 
one  for  you,  on  account  of  the  language." 

"  The  language  !"  replied  Lawrence. 

"  Yes,"  said  she.  "You  understand  the  language  of  flow- 
ers, don't  you  ?" 

"  Not  I,"  said  Lawrence.  "  I  know  nothing  at  all  about 
it." 

"  Not  even  that  the  blue  violet  means  faithfulness  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Lawrence. 

"  Nor  that" — here  she  looked  up  at  Lawrence  archly,  but 
a  little  timidly — "nor  what  a  moss-rose  bud  means?" 

"  No,"  replied  Lawrence. 

"Why,  what  have  you  been  studying  all  this  time  at 
your  famous  scientific  college  ?  I  thought  you  were  very 
learned,  and  I  was  inclined  to  be  rather  afraid  of  you,  and 
here  you  don't  know  the  language  of  the  commonest  flow- 
ers. Don't  they  study  botany  at  all  at  your  college  ?" 

"  Not  that  branch  of  it,"  said  Lawrence. 

"  Why  not  ?"  asked  Miss  Random. 
C 


50  DOKRIE. 

"  The  professor,  I  think,  does  not  take  much  interest  in 
that  branch — perhaps  because  he  is  a  bachelor." 

"  Is  he  an  old  bachelor  ?"  asked  Miss  Random. 

"  I  don't  think  that  he  would  be  called  old  among  bot- 
anists," said  Lawrence.  "  He  may  be  about  thirty-five." 

"I  call  that  very  old,"  said  Miss  Dorrie.  "  But  he  ought  to 
know  all  the  branches  of  botany  if  he  pretends  to  teach  it." 

"  He  may  possibly  understand  the  language  of  flowers 
himself,"  said  Lawrence,  "  but  perhaps  he  thinks  it  not  best 
to  fill  the  heads  of  the  scholars  with  such  nonsense." 

"  Nonsense !"  exclaimed  Miss  Dorrie,  looking  up  from 
her  work  with  an  expression  of  good-natured  surprise  in 
her  face.  "  Do  you  call  the  language  of  flowers  nonsense  ?" 

"  I  only  thought  that  he  might  perhaps  consider  it  so," 
said  Lawrence. 

They  talked  on  in  this  strain  for  some  time,  and  then, 
when  the  bouquets  were  finished,  they  set  off"  on  their  re- 
turn home.  Miss  Random  found  a  great  many  pretty 
points  of  view  where  she  stopped  to  admire  the  landscape 
on  the  way,  and  many  picturesque  objects  which  she  said 
would  make  pretty  subjects  for  sketches.  She  said  that 
she  meant  to  bring  down  her  sketch-book  some  day  and 
draw  some  of  them.  She  evinced  a  great  deal  of  good 
taste  and  judgment  in  respect  to  such  subjects  as  these. 
She  seemed  to  take  quite  a  fancy  to  John,  and  talked  with 
him  a  great  deal  about  the  various  objects  that  attracted 
their  attention  as  they  walked  along. 

At  length  the  party  arrived  at  the  door  of  the  house 
where  Miss  Random  lived,  and  there  Lawrence  and  John, 
after  they  had  thanked  her  for  the  pleasure  of  her  com- 
pany on  the  walk,  and  she  had  thanked  them  for  their  po- 
liteness in  inviting  her  to  go  with  them(  bade  her  good-by. 

"  Well,"  said  John,  after  they  had  gone  a  little  way  from 
the  door,  "  and  how  do  you  like  her  ?" 


DORRIE'S  INTELLIGENCE.  51 

"  I  think  she's  a  charming  young  lady,"  said  Lawrence. 

"  I  don't  know  about  her  being  charming,"  said  John, 
"  but  I  don't  think  she's  got  any  sense." 

"  And  yet  she  managed  the  case  pretty  well  with  you," 
said  Lawrence,  "  in  the  argument  about  changing  her 
name." 

"  But  then,"  said  John, "  she  could  not  believe  that  the 
bed  of  the  river  had  been  changed,  though  there  Avas  such 
perfect  proof  of  it." 

"  That  is  only  because  her  attention  has  never  been  turn- 
ed to  that  class  of  subjects,"  said  Lawrence.  "  She  has 
intelligence  enough,  but  it  has  been  turned  in  other  direc- 
tions." 


52  THE    MISSISSIPPI. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE     MISSISSIPPI. 

ALL  the  rivers  in  the  world  are  subject  substantially  to 
the  same  laws,  and  are  governed  by  the  same  action,  and 
consequently  manifest,  in  a  measure,  the  same  phenomena 
as  those  which  attracted  the  attention  of  Lawrence  and 
John  in  their  observations  upon  the  Carleton  River.  The 
effects  are  greatly  modified  in  particular  cases  by  the  situ- 
ation and  character  of  the  country  through  which  each  in- 
dividual river  flows,  but  the  principles  are  the  same  in  all. 
The  two  rivers  which  afford  the  grandest  examples  of  this 
action,  or  at  least  the  two  the  action  of  which  has  most 
attracted  the  attention  of  mankind,  are  the  Mississippi  and 
the  Nile.  These  rivers  are  remarkable  too,  as  exhibiting 
the  two  extremes  of  modification  in  respect  to  the  manner 
and  the  results  of  this  action  as  affected  by  differences  in 
the  conditions  under  which  it  can  take  place. 

The  case  of  the  Mississippi  is,  perhaps,  not  in  itself 
more  remarkable  than  that  of  the  Amazon,  though,  being 
nearer  to  us,  and  having  been  more  observed  by  travelers 
and  men  of  science,  its  characteristics  are  much  better 
known.  And  not  only  are  the  phenomena  themselves 
wonderful  in  their  character,  but  there  is  something  un- 
speakably grand  and  sublime,  in  relation  to  our  concep- 
tions of  them,  in  the  immense  magnitude  of  the  scale  on 
which  the  vast  process  goes  on. 

In  all  the  lower  portion  of  its  course  it  flows  through 
an  alluvial  region,  the  whole  of  which  it  seems  to  have  it- 
self formed.  This  region  is,  upon  an  average,  fifty  miles 


FORMATION    OF   LAKES.  53 

wide,  and  seven  or  eight  hundred  miles  long.  Through 
this  immense  tract  of  level  land  the  river  winds  its  devious 
and  ever-changing  way  by  sinuosities  innumerable.  The 
bends — or  ox-bows,  as  they  are  sometimes  called — which 
it  makes  are  often  twenty  or  thirty  miles  in  length,  and 
the  channel,  after  making  this  immense  sweep,  returns 
again  nearly  to  the  point  where  it  began,  there  being  left 
only  a  narrow  neck  between  the  commencement  and  ter- 
mination of  the  bend.  The  enlargement  and  extension  of 
the  sweep  and  the  contraction  of  the  neck  continue,  until 
at  length  the  separation  is  broken  through,  and  what  they 
call  a  "  cut-off"  is  produced,  by  which  the  land  inclosed 
within  the  bend  is  left  an  island.  In  process  of  time,  the 
communications  between  the  old  bend  and  the  cut-off, 
which  has  now  become  the  main  channel,  are  gradually 
closed  up  with  trunks  of  trees  and  rubbish,  and  these  in- 
tercept and  hold  the  sand  and  soil,  so  that  at  length  solid 
banks  are  formed,  and  the  principal  portion  of  the  great 
bend  is  left  to  form  one  of  those  crescent-shaped  lakes  de- 
scribed in  a  former  chapter  as  produced  by  the  Amazon. 

Sometimes  these  changes  take  place  in  parts  of  the  river 
passing  Hear  large  towns,  so  as  seriously  to  affect  their  po- 
sition in  relation  to  the  stream,  and  to  injure  or  threaten 
their  facilities  of  access  to  the  deep  water  for  the  purposes 
of  navigation.  The  government  engineers  who  have  charge 
of  the  River  Mississippi  have  reported  during  the  very  last 
season  that  such  a  change  is  taking  place  in  the  vicinity 
of  Vicksburg,  which,  as  they  say,  will  soon  make  it  an  in- 
land town  unless  immediate  preventive  measures  are  tak- 
en. The  main  channel  is  now  immediately  under  the  bluffs 
upon  which  the  town  stands,  making  one  of  the  best  har- 
bors upon  the  river,  but  in  a  few  months  the  engineers  are 
confident  that  a  "cut-off"  will  be  formed  across  a  low 
sandy  peninsula  opposite  Vicksburg,  through  which  the 


54  THE    MISSISSIPPI. 

greater  portion  of  the  current  will  pass,  leaving  not  enough 
water  at  the  levees  of  the  town  to  float  steam-boats.  To 
prevent  this,  it  will  be  necessary  to  construct  an  expensive 
stone  work,  which,  it  is  estimated,  will  cost  more  than  two 
millions  of  dollars. 

When  such  a  cut-off  is  formed,  the  water  of  the  former 
channel  sooner  or  later  becomes  a  long,  stagnant  lake,  as 
has  already  been  explained.  The  country  bordering  the 
Mississippi  shows  many  of  these  lakes  which  were  former- 
ly portions  of  the  bed  of  the  river,  but  which  are  now  in 
process  of  being  filled  up.  Some  of  them  are  so  large  and 
so  recent  as  to  retain  their  water  when  the  river  is  low, 
and  are  used  for  local  purposes  of  navigation,  and  so  are 
represented  on  the  maps.  You  can  generally  see  them 
laid  down  on  maps  of  the  southwestern  states.  Others 
are  half  filled  with  drift-wood  and  mud,  and  form,  except 
at  times  of  inundation,  mere  swamps  and  morasses.  In 
others  still,  the  re-formation  of  the  land  is  so  far  advanced 
that  only  a  winding  or  crescent-shaped  depression  of  the 
turf  remains  to  show  where  the  river  once  flowed. 

In  many  cases,  vast  tracts  of  land  which  were  overflowed 
in  times  of  inundation,  but  were  drained  again  when  the 
water  fell,  so  long  as  their  connections  with  the  river  was 
open,  become  permanent  morasses  when  these  connections 
are  closed  after  the  course  of  the  river  is  changed,  so  that 
the  former  vegetation  is  drowned ;  and  then,  in  the  winter 
— in  the  more  northern  portions  of  the  valley — when  the 
green  of  the  aquatic  vegetation  which  springs  up  in  its 
place  is  covered  and  concealed  by  ice  and  snow,  the  whole 
region  presents  a  scene  of  frightful  desolation. 

And  these  phenomena,  which  in  the  case  of  the  Missis- 
sippi appear  on  so  vast  a  scale,  are  produced,  in  their  es- 
sential characteristics,  on  a  smaller  scale  in  the  case  of 
every  river,  and  even  every  brook,  which  flows  through 


MOBA66  IN   WINTEB. 


SLOW   CHANGES.  57 

alluvial  lands,  as  almost  any  reader  of  this  book  may  have 
an  opportunity  of  observing  in  his  own  neighborhood,  if  he 
takes  the  pains  or  has  the  discernment  to  find  them. 

The  changes  taking  place  on  such  a  river  as  the  Missis- 
sippi are  on  a  very  great  scale,  and  the  greatness  of  tho 
scale  pertains  to  the  time  as  well  as  the  space  involved  in 
the  progress  of  them,  Indeed,  almost  all  grand  move- 
ments are  slow — that  is,  slow  in  relation  to  our  powers  of 
appreciating  duration.  The  changes  in  the  Valley  of  the 
Mississippi  are  so  gradual,  when  estimated  by  this  stand- 
ard, that  thousands  of  passengers  on  board  the  steam-boats, 
and  probably  even  many  of  the  navigators  themselves,  go 
up  and  down  the  river  without  any  clear  conception  that 
any  extensive  changes  are  going  on.  And  yet  the  river  is 
all  the  time  twisting  and  turning,  and  moving  its  bed  this 
way  and  that,  over  almost  the  whole  of  the  broad  valley 
through  which  it  flows.  It  has  formed  the  valley,  or  rath- 
er the  land  that  fills  it,  and  it  claims  the  right,  not  unrea- 
sonably, to  flow  through  it  where  it  will,  and  to  shift  and 
change,  and  arrange  and  rearrange  the  conformation  of  it 
just  as  it  pleases. 

Still,  so  slow  and  gradual  are  the  changes  in  reference 
to  standards  relating  to  animal  and  vegetable  life,  that  the 
birds  and  beasts  live  in  the  region,  generation  after  gen- 
eration, undisturbed.  Pilots  learn  the  positions  of  shoals 
and  sand-bars,  and  the  courses  of  the  different  reaches  of 
the  river,  and  their  knowledge  remains  useful  to  them  for 
many  years.  Men  form  plantations  near  the  banks,  and 
raise  crops  of  cotton  or  of  sugar,  scarcely  conscious  that 
the  time  will  come  when  vast  steamers  will  be  plowing 
their  way  over  a  flood  that  will  then  take  the  place  of 
their  fertile  fields  and  blooming  pleasure-grounds.  Great 
forests  grow,  too,  in  wild  and  solitary  domains;  and  so 
long  is  the  time  that  elapses  between  the  gradual  consoli- 
C2 


58  THE    MISSISSIPPI. 

dation  of  the  ground  in  any  region  when  the  river  leaves 
it,  and  the  return  of  the  river  again  to  undermine  and 
wash  it  away,  that  the  trees  grow  to  an  enormous  size, 
and,  with  the  dense  underbrush,  the  climbing  and  twining 
plants  that  bind  them  together,  form  in  many  places  an 
almost  impenetrable  maze. 

This  is  especially  the  case  in  the  tropical  regions  of 
South  America,  where  the  thickets  which  soon  fill  the  va- 
rious regions  which  the  river  successively  abandons  be- 
come almost  impenetrable,  even  to  the  savages  that  hunt 
in  them  for  food.  The  difficulty  of  traversing  them  is  in- 
creased by  the  deep  pools  of  water  left  remaining  here  and 
there,  though  the  natives  find,  in  wading  through  these 
pools,  some  soothing  influence  from  the  water,  and  some 
protection  against  the  bites  of  the  millions  of  insects  which 
fill  the  air. 

When,  after  the  lapse  of  centuries,  perhaps,  the  river,  in 
its  windings,  comes  to  the  place  again  which  it  formerly 
abandoned,  the  successive  portions  of  these  forests  are  un- 
dermined, and  the  trees  are  carried  off  bodily  down  the 
stream.  This  process  of  undermining  goes  on,  in  general, 
most  rapidly  after  an  inundation ;  for  the  water  of  the  in- 
undations so  saturate  and  soften  the  soil,  and  the  force  and 
rapidity  of  the  current,  when  the  water  returns  within  its 
banks,  is  so  great,  that  sometimes  whole  acres  of  such  for- 
ests are  undermined  and  borne  away  together.  In  these 
cases  the  sand,  and  mud,  and  the  entangled  roots  and 
branches  of  the  trees — bound  together,  moreover,  as  they 
often  are  by  the  rope-like  stems  of  vines  and  other  climb- 
ing plants — float  at  first  slowly  away,  clinging  together,  an 
indescribable  mass  of  ruin  and  confusion.  The  currents 
and  eddies  of  the  water  soon,  however,  separate  this  mass 
into  its  component  parts.  The  sand  is  deposited  along  the 
beaches  and  sand-banks  below.  The  trees  float  farther 


TBOFIOAL   MOUA8S. 


SNAGS. 


51 


down,  their  tops  rising  above  the  surface  and  the  roots 
hanging  far  below.  When  they  are  carried  over  the  shal- 
lower portions  of  the  water  the  roots  drag  upon  the  bot- 
tom, and  many  of  them  catch  and  finally  become  anchor- 
ed by  the  filling  in  of  sand  and  mud  around  them.  The 
branches  soon  decay  and  are  washed  away,  while  the 
trunk,  partly  on  account  of  its  massiveness  and  solidity, 
and  partly  on  account  of  the  protection  from  decay  afford- 
ed it  by  the  water  in  which  it  is  wholly  submerged,  forms, 
as  it  were,  a  gigantic  spear  pointed  down  the  stream, 
ready  to  impale  the  ascending  steam-boat  that  encounters 
it  on  its  passage  up.  These  are  the  famous  snags  of  which 
we  hear  so  much  in  the  navigation  of  that  river. 


Sometimes  these  half-sunken  trunks  become  entangled 
together,  and  portions  of  them  rise  in  ugly-looking  masses 
above  the  surface  of  the  water.  Such  snags  as  these,  ugly 
as  they  look,  are  comparatively  harmless ;  for  the  look-out 


62  THE   MISSISSIPPI. 

man  on  board  the  steamer  can  see  the  danger,  which  makes 
true  the  seeming  paradox  that  there  are  some  kinds  of 
danger  which  disappear  by  being  seen. 

Many  of  these  trees,  thus  lodged  by  their  roots  upon 
the  bottom  where  the  water  is  not  too  deep,  show  for  a 
time  their  tops  above  the  surface,  where  they  are  seen  saw- 
ing up  and  down  as  the  current  flows  over  them.  From 
this  motion  they  receive  the  name  of  sawyers  from  the 
steam-boat  men.  After  a  time,  when  the  top  decays  and 
is  washed  away,  no  trace  of  the  tree  is  seen  above  the  sur- 
face, except  sometimes  a  slight  ripple  in  the  water,  and 
then  the  obstruction  becomes  a  concealed  snag.  These 
snags  are,  of  course,  mucli  more  dangerous  than  the  saw- 
yc'rs,  because  they  are  not  so  easily  seen.  Sometimes  they 
aie  entirely  concealed,  and  the  people  on  board  the  steamer 
have  no  warning  until  suddenly — while  all  seems  to  be  go- 
ing on  smoothly  and  prosperously,  and  the  passengers  are 
enjoying  themselves  at  their  ease  upon  the  decks  or  in  the 
cabins,  not  dreaming  of  danger — they  are  thunder-struck 
by  the  shock  of  a  snag  crashing  through  the  bottom  of  the 
vessel.  The  people  are  thrown  down,  the  boilers  and  ma- 
chinery are  perhaps  displaced,  and  the  vessel  swings  help- 
lessly around,  and  begins  rapidly  to  fill.  It  is  fortunate 
for  her  if  she  does  not  take  fire.  The  only  hope,  in  many 
cases,  is  to  run  her  to  the  shore. 

This  terrible  danger  is,  however,  not  nearly  so  great 
now  as  it  was  in  former  years ;  for  the  government  have 
devised  a  means  of  clearing  the  channel,  in  a  great  meas- 
ure, of  these  terrible  impediments  by  a  steam-boat  and 
machinery  adapted  to  the  purpose.  By  means  of  this  ap- 
paratus they  have  contrived  to  grapple  the  snags  and  saw- 
yers one  after  another,  and  saw  them  off  at  a  depth  suffi- 
cient to  allow  the  steamers  to  pass  safely  over  them.  The 
time  when  the  river  is  low  is,  of  course,  the  proper  season 


CHANGES    IX    THE    EIVEK.  63 

for  this  work,  and  it  is  not  necessary  to  go  so  very  deep  in 
cutting  off  these  stems  as  one  might  at  first  suppose,  for 
the  steamers  and  other  vessels  used  in  navigating  such 
rivers  are  much  more  flat-bottomed  in  their  build  than 
those  intended  for  the  sea,  being  made  so  in  order  that 
they  may  be  as  little  as  possible  impeded  by  shoals  and 
low  water. 

The  changes  which  are  thus  continually  taking  place  in 
the  bed  of  the  river  and  in  the  adjacent  land  are  so  slow, 
in  reference  to  the  life  of  man,  that  the  results,  as  has  al- 
ready been  said,  are  not  very  apparent  to  any  one  genera- 
tion of  navigators,  nor  do  they  cause  any  very  great  incon- 
venience. Sometimes  long  portions  of  the  channel  remain 
with  very  little  change  for  many  years,  while  the  work  is 
going  on  with  great  rapidity  in  other  parts  of  the  stream. 
The  pilots  watch  the  changes  as  well  as  they  can  where 
they  observe  that  the  action  is  going  on,  and  the  naviga- 
tion is  not,  on  the  whole,  greatly  impeded.  In  the  course 
of  a  few  generations,  however,  the  alterations  become 
great.  At  one  time,  for  example,  though  some  years  ago, 
a  regular  survey  of  the  river  was  made  by  the  govern' 
ment,  and  all  the  islands  through  the  whole  course  of  it, 
from  the  Missouri  to  its  mouth,  were  regularly  mapped 
and  numbered.  They  were  too  numerous  to  be  named. 
In  a  few  years,  however,  so  many  changes  took  place  that 
this  numbering  was  thrown  pretty  much  into  confusion. 
Some  of  the  islands  were  entirely  washed  away.  Others 
disappeared  by  the  filling  up  of  the  channel  on  one  side  of 
th«m— at  first  by  trunks  of  trees  and  rubbish,  and  after- 
ward by  sand  and  soil,  so  as  to  form  solid  ground,  which 
was  soon  covered  with  a  forest ;  and  thus  the  island  disap- 
peared as  an  island  by  being  joined  to  the  main  land.  On 
the  other  hand,  many  new  islands  were  formed.  This  was 
done  sometimes  by  the  formation  of  a  cut  •  off  through 


64  THE   MISSISSIPPI. 

which  a  part  of  the  current  of  the  river  flowed,  while  the 
remainder  continued  its  course  for  a  time  around  the  bend, 
and  sometimes  by  the  lodging  of  several  trees  together 
upon  some  shoal  in  the  middle  of  the  channel,  and  the 
gradual  accumulations  around  them  of  sand.  A  nucleus 
thus  formed  would  soon  be  covered  with  a  fertile  soil  and 
with  a  luxuriant  vegetation. 

Islands  commencing  in  this  way  sometimes  increase  by 
gradual  additions  until  they  become  very  large,  the  river 
cutting  more  and  more  into  the  banks  on  each  side  to  give 
passage  to  the  volume  of  water.  Of  course,  the  fact  that 
islands  thus  formed  in  the  middle  of  the  stream  in  some 
cases  grow  larger  and  larger  by  the  action  of  the  water, 
and  in  others  are  gradually  wasted  away  until  they  entire- 
ly disappear,  is  another  example  of  the  seeming  capricious- 
ness  of  such  a  river.  But  these  effects  are  really  not  the 
result  of  capriciousness  at  all,  as  there  is  always  a  reason 
in  the  conformation  of  the  banks,  or  in  the  constitution  of 
them,  or  in  the  course  of  the  river  above  or  below  them,  to 
determine  what  the  effect  shall  be  in  every  particular  case. 

In  the  next  two  or  three  chapters  we  shall  consider  the 
case  of  the  Nile,  in  which,  while  we  shall  see  that  the  same 
general  laws  are  in  operation  there  as  in  all  other  rivers, 
they  are  modified  by  peculiar  circumstances  in  their  ac- 
tion, so  as  to  produce  in  some  respects  quite  different  re- 
sults. 

After  that  we  shall  proceed  to  consider  these  two  ques- 
tions, namely,  first,  where  and  how  these  rivers  obtain  the 
immense  amount  of  material  they  require  for  carrying  on 
these  stupendous  operations,  and,  secondly,  what  disposi- 
tion they  make  of  these  materials  when  they  have  done 
with  them. 


FERTILITY.  63 


CHAPTER  VI. 

GENERAL   CHARACTER    OF    ALLUVIAL   FORMATIONS. 

THE  River  Mississippi  and  the  Amazon,  as  well  as  near- 
ly all  other  rivers  flowing  through  alluvial  districts  which 
are  yet  sparsely  inhabited,  go  on  from  age  to  age  turning 
and  winding  in  their  own  way,  with  very  little  interference 
from  man.  There  are,  however,  various  agencies,  both  nat- 
ural and  artificial,  by  which  these  changes,  in  the  case  of 
other  rivers,  are  greatly  modified,  and  in  some  cases  en- 
tirely controlled. 

In  some  rivers,  and  in  some  parts  of  all  rivers,  the  action 
is  so  slow  that  the  changes  which  take  place  are  scarcely 
noticed  by  the  people  living  upon  or  near  the  banks,  ex- 
cept, perhaps,  by  aged  persons  who  have  lived  upon  them 
for  a  long  while,  and  who  have  watched  and  can  remem- 
ber the  different  stages  that  have  been  passed  through. 

It  is  interesting  to  observe  the  various  circumstances  in 
respect  to  these  lands  which  affect  the  question  of  their 
occupancy  by  man. 

1.  In  the  first  place,  they  are  extremely  fertile.  All  the 
pebbles  and  the  sand  which  they  bring  down  tend,  of 
course,  from  their  weight,  to  be  deposited  in  low  places, 
where  they  soon  become  covered,  while  all  the  finer  and 
lighter  particles,  consisting  of  rich  soil,  and  of  minutely 
divided  animal  and  vegetable  matter,  are  carried  far  and 
wide,  and  are  spread  evenly  over  the  whole  surface  of  the 
ground,  making  it  extremely  rich ;  and  as  this  process  has 
been  going  on  for  many,  many  years,  the  soil  thus  formed 
is  very  deep.  The  fields  made  upon  it,  consequently,  when 


66        GENERAL   CHARACTER    OF   ALLUVIAL   FORMATIONS. 

the  land  is  cleared  of  the  original  vegetation,  require  no 
dressing,  but  contain  within  themselves  almost  inexhaust- 
ible stores  of  fertility. 

2.  But,  then,  on  the  other  hand,  this  very  fertility  vastly 
enhances  the  original  difficulty  of  clearing  the  land,  on  ac- 
count of  the  luxuriance  and  the  denseness  of  the  native 
vegetation. 

This  is  especially  the  case  in  these  river  lands  formed  in 
tropical  regions,  where  the  stems  of  the  trees  and  of  the 
climbing  plants  contain  a  great  deal  of  siliceous,  that  is, 
flinty  matter,  by  which  the  edges  of  the  tools  are  turned, 
and  the  work  of  clearing  the  land  is  made  exceedingly  la- 
boi-ious. 

3.  But,  then,  in  the  third  place — and  here  we  come  to  a 
consideration  which  is  in  the  farmer's  favor  again — there 
are  never  any  stones  upon  or  in  such  ground  to  hinder  the 
tillage.     All  the  stony  obstruction,  it  seems,  is  confined  to 
the  silex  in  the  stems  of  tropical  trees,  and,  once  overcome 
there,  it  is  gone  forever ;  for  all  the  stones  and  gravel,  and 
most  even  of  the  coarse  sand,  are  deposited  by  the  river  in 
low  places,  where  they  serve  an  admirable  purpose  as  a 
foundation  for  the  richer  and  softer  soil  above.     The  only 
cases,  it  would  seem,  in  which  stones  are  ever  found  upon 
such  lands  are  those  in  which,  in  cold  or  temperate  cli- 
mates, they  are  brought  down  imbedded  in  cakes  of  ice 
formed  in  shallow  waters  above,  and  left  upon  the  inter- 
vales in  times  of  inundation. 

4.  And  now,  in  the  fourth  place,  we  come  to  a  disadvan- 
tage again,  for  land  thus  formed  is  very  unfavorable  for 
the  farmer  in  respect  to  his  dwelling,  on  account  of  its  be- 
ing so  subject  to  inundations.     This  is  attended  with  no 
very  serious  inconvenience  in  the  case  of  rivers  that  are 
i5mall,  so  that  the  alluvial  lands  bordering  it  are  narrow, 
ibr  then  the  farmer  can  have  his  house  upon  the  upland 


ALLUVIAL   FOKEST   IN   THE   TKOPIC8. 


CHANGES    OF   LEVEL.  69 

adjoining,  and  go  down  upon  his  intervale  only  when  the 
ground  is  dry ;  but  in  the  case  of  the  great  rivers  of  the 
world,  where  the  lands  inundated  extend  for  many  miles 
on  each  side,  the  evil  is  a  very  serious  one.  It  is  a  subject 
of  curious  wonder  for  us  how  future  generations  will  sur- 
mount it. 

This  difficulty  is  not,  however,  so  absolutely  universal 
and  irremediable,  even  now,  as  we  might  suppose ;  for 
these  alluvial  plains,  although  we  say  in  general  terms 
that  they  are  level,  are  not  by  any  means  strictly  so.  As 
the  ground  is  all  the  time  changing,  there  are  portions 
which  are  left  for  a  long  period  of  years  without  being 
disturbed,  and  are  consequently  built  up  almost  to  the 
level  of  the  highest  inundations.  And  if  the  river,  as  oft- 
en happens,  is  more  or  less  choked  up  in  its  passage  below 
by  bars  of  sand  or  gravel,  or  through  the  narrowing  of  the 
banks  by  entangled  trees  and  rubbish,  the  inundations  may 
go  on  for  a  century  or  two  in  raising  portions  of  this  land 
up  so  high  that  afterward,  when  the  obstructions  are  worn 
away,  and  the  river  returns  to  its  average  level,  these 
raised  lands  may  remain  for  several  centuries  more  with- 
out being  reached  by  the  highest  inundations. 

And  then,  moreover,  the  general  level  of  the  whole  re- 
gion may  be  changed,  as  there  is  abundant  evidence  that 
it  often  is,  by  a  very  slow  rising  or  sinking  of  the  land — 
rivers,  lakes,  forests,  and  all.  By  a  slow  movement  is 
meant  one  of  a  few  inches  in  a  century,  or  from  a  tenth  to 
a  twentieth  of  an  inch  a  year.  It  is  very  difficult  for  us  to 
form  a  picture  in  our  minds  of  steadily  continuous  motion 
so  slow  as  this,  though  we  have  around  us  many  examples 
of  somewhat  similar  changes,  such  as  the  motion  of  a 
post,  or  of  a  building  resting  upon  the  top  of  the  ground 
in  being  heaved  up  by  the  frost,  the  contraction  of  wood 
in  drying,  or  the  very  gradual  shrinkage  of  materials  of 


70        GENERAL   CHARACTER   OF   ALLUVIAL   FORMATIONS. 

construction  used  in  building,  by  which  cracks  slowly 
open,  in  the  course  of  years,  in  old  walls.  There  is  abun- 
dant reason  for  believing,  as  we  shall  hereafter  see  more 
fully,  that  large  portions,  if  not  all,  of  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  are  constantly  undergoing  these  slow  changes.  The 
effect  of  them,  in  the  case  of  alluvial  valleys,  is  to  raise 
some  portions  of  the  land  above  the  reach  of  the  water  by 
which  it  was  originally  itself  laid  down,  and  to  keep  other 
portions,  namely,  those  that  are  slowly  settling,  more  and 
more  subject  to  overflow  by  the  ordinary  inundations. 

There  is  another  thing  which  is  very  important  to  be 
considered  in  respect  to  these  alluvial  regions,  and  that  is, 
that  when  they  are  occupied  by  man,  the  tendency  of  his 
operations  is  to  consolidate  the  land,  to  fix  the  course  of 
the  river,  and  thus  greatly  to  diminish  the  frequency  and 
the  extent  of  the  changes  which,  in  a  state  of  nature,  are 
so  vast,  and  apparently  so  irresistible.  By  removing  the 
forests  he  admits  the  sun  and  air,  and  aids  in  the  consoli- 
dation of  the  ground.  He  clears  the  natural  water-courses, 
or  opens  new  ones,  by  which  the  morasses  and  swamps 
are  drained  when  the  river  is  low.  His  various  operations 
connected  with  the  navigation  of  the  stream  and  the  culti- 
vation of  the  land  adjoining  it  tend  to  remove  obstructions 
from  its  banks  and  from  its  bed,  and  to  widen  and  deepen 
the  channel,  thus  allowing  a  free  passage  for  the  water, 
and  diminishing  the  tendency  to  overflow. 

And  then,  in  the  course  of  time,  as  the  density  of  the 
population  increases,  and  the  land  becomes  more  and  more 
valuable,  the  people  living  on  the  banks  of  such  a  river  do 
what  they  can  to  resist  the  tendency  to  change  in  its 
course.  There  are  various  ways  of  doing  this. 

As  the  chief  action  of  the  water  in  wearing  away  the 
land  is  in  undermining  it  from  below,  and  thus  allowing 
the  superincumbent  mass  of  earth  to  fall  down  into  the 


PROTECTION    OF   THE    BANKS.  71 

stream,  where  the  materials  of  which  it  is  composed  can 
be  borne  away,  the  pi'otection  necessary  is  chiefly  required 
along  the  margin  of  the  water  at  its  ordinary  level.  This 
protection  is  sometimes  afforded  by  a  low  wall,  or  by  a 
line  of  piles,  the  bank  above  being  rounded  down,  and 
strengthened  by  plantations  of  willows,  or  other  trees  or 
shrubs  that  can  not  be  drowned  out  by  an  occasional  in- 
undation, provided  that  during  the  remainder  of  the  year 
they  have  a  reasonable  enjoyment  of  the  sun  and  air. 

A  much  more  effectual  mode  of  protecting  the  banks  is 
by  building  out  jetties  of  stone — very  rude  ones  will  an- 
swer the  purpose — to  keep  the  current  off  from  the  line  of 
the  land.  These  jetties  are  sometimes  built  out  at  right  an- 
gles to  the  stream,  at  regular  intervals  along  the  exposed 
shore,  like  a  line  of  piers,  though  at  considerable  distance 
from  each  other,  and  extending  only  a  little  way  into  the 
stream — just  far  enough  to  check  the  action  of  the  current 
upon  the  shore. 

Another  mode  is  to  build  a  larger  jetty  at  the  upper  end 
of  the  portion  of  the  bank  to  be  protected,  the  jetty  being 
built  in  such  a  manner  as  to  shoot  the  current  off  toward 
the  middle  of  the  stream  again.  For  this  purpose  the  con- 
struction must  not  be  at  right  angles  to  the  stream,  but 
must  point  obliquely  downward,  and  the  direction  must  be 
carefully  adjusted  so  as  not  to  throw  the  force  of  the  cur- 
rent across  to  the  opposite  bank,  and  thus  simply  transfer 
the  mischief  from  one  side  of  the  river  to  the  other,  but  only 
to  direct  it  toward  the  line  of  the  middle  of  the  channel. 

By  these  and  other  methods,  the  tendency  of  the  occu- 
pation by  man  of  any  of  these  alluvial  valleys  is  to  arrest 
the  changes  which  the  river  is  naturally  inclined  to  make 
— to  tame  and  inclose  it,  in  fact,  as  we  might  say,  so  as  to 
bring  its  forces  more  into  subordination  to  the  will  and  to 
the  promotion  of  the  purposes  of  man. 


72        GENERAL   CHARACTER    OF    ALLUVIAL   FORMATIONS. 

The  country  in  which  these  limitations  and  regulations 
of  river  action  has  been  longest  going  on  is  Egypt ;  and 
the  Nile  has  now,  for  many  centuries,  presented  itself  in 
the  view  of  mankind,  as  compared  with  many  of  the  other 
great  rivers  on  the  globe,  in  a  contrast  similar  to  that  be- 
tween civilization  and  barbarism.  It  is  a  contrast  some- 
what analogous  to  that  exhibited  by  a  horse  standing  qui- 
etly, all  saddled  and  bridled,  and  glossy  and  trim,  at  the 
door,  waiting  for  his  master,  in  comparison  with  a  wild 
quagga  or  zebra  galloping  wildly  over  his  native  plains, 
his  movements  controlled  entirely  by  his  own  wayward 
and  ungovernable  will.  The  horse  is  manageable,  submis- 
sive, and  useful ;  so  is  the  Nile.  The  action  of  the  zebra 
and  the  quagga,  in  the  vast  herds  in  which  they  congre- 
gate, on  the  other  hand,  though  wild,  is  picturesque,  and 
even  grand ;  so  is  that  of  such  rivers  as  the  Mississippi  and 
the  Amazon. 


THE    RED   SEA.  73 


CHAPTER  VIL 

THE   VALLEY    OF  THE    NILE. 

THE  Nile  differs  from  every  other  great  river  on  the 
globe  in  this  respect,  among  others,  namely,  that  the  val- 
ley through  which  it  flows,  in  all  the  lower  part  of  its 
course,  is  long  and  narrow,  and  so  completely  isolated 
from  the  surrounding  regions  that  it  has  no  lateral  valleys 
whatever  to  open  ways  for  water-courses  leading  into  it. 
The  country,  moreover,  on  each  side  consists  of  sandy  des- 
erts, abundantly  capable  of  absorbing  all  the  water  which 
they  receive  from  the  few  and  scanty  rains  that  fall.  The 
consequence  is,  that  for  thirteen  hundred  miles  from  its 
mouth  not  a  single  tributary  stream,  great  or  small,  is 
seen  flowing  into  it ! 

There  is  every  reason  to  suppose  that  this  valley  was 
once  the  bed  of  a  long  and  narrow  sea,  like  the  Red  Sea, 
which  lies  so  near  it.  They  were  twin  seas,  as  it  were, 
produced  perhaps  geologically  at  the  same  birth,  and  ly- 
ing for  ages  side  by  side  in  the  same  apparent  condition. 
The  Red  Sea  communicated  with  the  ocean  at  its  southern 
end,  and  there  was  no  great  country  to  collect  rains  for  it 
at  the  other  extremity.  The  other  sea  opened  into  the 
Mediterranean  on  the  north,  while  a  vast  country,  with 
great  lakes,  and  those  immense  condensers,  the  Mountains 
of  the  Moon,  in  the  middle  of  it,  lay  to  the  southward, 
ready  to  gather  and  to  pour  down  into  it  annually  a 
mighty  flood,  laden  with  all  the  materials  necessary  for 
driving  out  the  sea,  and  filling  the  bed  of  it  with  the  rich- 
est and  most  fertile  soil.  The  consequence  has  been  that 
D 


74  THK    VALLEY    OF    THE    XILE. 

Egypt  nas  been  produced  in  one  valley,  while  in  the  other 
the  sea  keeps  its  place  unchanged. 

For  a  great  many  centuries  the  region  of  country  in 
which  the  Nile  takes  its  rise  defied  all  attempts  of  the  civ- 
ilized world  for  the  exploration  of  it.  This  work  has,  how- 
ever, at  length  been  accomplished,  and  the  source  of  the 
river,  as  it  issues  from  one  of  a  system  of  great  lakes  far 
in  the  interior  of  Africa,  has  at  length  been  made  known. 

One  day  Lawrence  and  John  were  rambling  together 
along  the  bank  of  the  river  on  the  opposite  side  from 
where  they  lived,  having  crossed  over  upon  a  bridge  at 
some  distance  below,  near  the  town,  when  John,  on  look- 
ing over  the  edge  of  the  bank  at  a  place  where  it  was 
steep,  from  the  caving  in  of  the  earth  and  turf  from  above, 
as  it  was  gradually  undermined  by  the  wear  of  the  water 
below,  spied  the  end  of  a  log  which  was  seen  projecting 
out  into  the  stream  on  the  bottom.  It  appeared  to  be 
only  a  small  portion  of  the  log  that  came  into  view  from 
under  the  bank.  The  rest  seemed  to  be  covered  and  con- 
cealed by  the  mass  of  earth  which  formed  the  bank  on 
which  they  were  standing. 

John's  attention  was  strongly  attracted  by  this  appear- 
ance. He  had  often  before  seen  such  logs  projecting  out 
from  under  the  bank,  but  had  never  before  thought  of  the 
significance  of  such  a  phenomenon. 

"How  long  do  you  suppose  that  log  has  been  lying 
here  ?"  he  asked.  "  Do  you  think  it  grew  here  ?" 

"It  may  have  grown  here,"  replied  Lawrence,  "  or  it  may 
have  floated  down  from  above.  One  thing  is  certain,  and 
that  is,  it  either  grew  here,  or  wras  floated  here  and  lodged 
before  the  earth  that  forms  that  part  of  the  intervale  that 
now  covers  it  was  deposited." 

"  How  long  ago  do  you  suppose  that  was  ?"  asked  John. 

Lawrence  said  that  it  would  be  useless  to  attempt  to 


PROPOSED    OBSERVATION.  77 

guess,  but  that  if  John  chose  to  take  the  time  and  troubla 
he  could  make  some  kind  of  calculation.  "  The  trouble 
would  not  be  much,"  he  added ;  "  the  time  would  be  the 
difficulty." 

Lawrence  then  went  on  to  explain  the  method  that  he 
had  in  mind  for  making  this  calculation,  which  was  to 
place  a  flat  stone,  or  something  of  the  kind,  in  some  shel- 
tered place  among  the  grass  or  bushes,  and  then  wait  until 
the  next  freshet  and  see  how  much  sediment  was  depos- 
ited upon  it. 

"Then,"  continued  Mr.  Wollaston,  "  you  must  ascertain 
from  some  observing  people  about  here  how  often  the 
freshets  come — that  is,  how  many  there  would  be,  upon  an 
average,  in  ten  years ;  and  so  you  can  calculate  how  much 
the  intervale  would  be  raised  in  ten  years. 

"  The  best  way  would  be,"  he  added,  "  or  rather  the 
most  sure  way  would  be,  to  set  up  a  stake  by  the  side  of 
the  flat  stone,  and  then  wait  ten  years,  and  see  at  the  end 
of  that  time  how  much  the  earth  has  accumulated  over  the 
flat  stone." 

John  said  that  ten  years  would  be  an  enormously  long 
while  to  wait. 

"Yes,"  replied  Lawrence,  "  and  that  is  what  I  meant  by 
saying  that  the  difficulty  in  respect  to  such  observations 
is  the  time  they  require,  and  not  the  trouble.  It  would 
help  us  very  much  if  we  could  find  some  mark  or  other 
that  was  made  many  years  ago,  so  that  we  could  calculate 
from  that." 

"  We  might  find  some  fence,  perhaps,"  said  John,  "  and 
see  how  high  the  land  had  risen  about  the  posts.  The 
farmers  could  tell  us  when  the  fence  was  made." 

"  But  we  could  not  tell  how  low  the  posts  were  placed 
in  the  ground  when  the  fence  was  set,"  said  Lawrence. 
"And,  besides,  the  frost  works  upon  posts  so  much,  lifting 


78  THE   VALLEY    OF   THE    NILE. 

them  up  and  pushing  them  about,  that  they  often  have  to 
be  righted  and  readjusted.  This  would  prevent  us  from 
judging  at  all  by  any  fence." 

"Perhaps  we  might  find  some  bridge  somewhere  up  or 
down  the  river,"  said  John,  "and  judge  from  the  stone- 
work of  the  abutments." 

"That  is  substantially  what  they  did  in  Egypt,"  replied 
Lawrence.  "They  found,  from  some  ancient  stone-work, 
where  the  level  of  the  ground  must  have  been  a  great 
many  hundred  years  ago,  and  from  that  made  a  very  care- 
ful calculation  in  respect  to  the  time  which  would  seem  to 
have  been  required  to  produce  the  whole  depth  of  the  de- 
posit which  now  fills  up  the  Valley  of  the  Nile." 

Lawrence  went  on  to  explain  to  John  the  particulars  of 
this  case  as  they  walked  together  along  the  river  bank. 
He  had  read  the  account  of  this  calculation,  as  well  as  of 
ttiany  other  similar  ones,  in  his  books  of  geology. 

The  facts,  as  Lawrence  explained  them,  were  as  follows : 

There  are  a  great  many  ancient  monuments  in  Egypt,  as 
there  are,  indeed,  in  various  other  parts  of  the  world,  but  a 
great  deal  more  is  known  about  the  origin  and  history  of 
those  in  Egypt  than  about  any  other  as  ancient  as  they  in 
any  other  region.  This  is  owing  partly  to  the  fact  that  a 
great  deal  of  information  in  respect  to  the  early  history 
and  condition  of  Egypt  was  put  on  record  by  Greek  and 
Roman  writers  in  those  early  days,  in  writings  which  have 
come  down  to  us,  and  are  now  read  by  learned  men  in  all 
parts  of  the  world,  and  partly  by  the  hieroglyphic  in- 
scriptions on  the  monuments  themselves,  which  inscrip- 
tions have  been  deciphered  in  modern  times. 

Many  of  these  monuments  are  more  or  less  in  a  state 
of  ruin.  Not  a  few  are,  however,  comparatively  entire. 
And  in  respect  to  some  of  them,  the  time  when  they  were 
built  is  pretty  certainly  known. 


EGYPTIAN    MONUMENTS. 


Now  several  of  these  monuments  are  at  or  near  the  an- 
cient town  of  Memphis,  which  is  situated  in  the  very  heart 
of  the  alluvial  country,  near  the  head  of  what  is  called  the 
Delta  of  the  Nile,  and  among  them  there  is  one  called  the 
statue  of  Rameses,  the  date  of  the  building  of  which  is 
pretty  well  ascertained  to  have  been  1361  before  Chrisf. 
The  level  of  the  land  is  now  high  around  the  pedestal  upon 
which  the  statue  stands,  having  been  raised  by  the  depos- 
its which  have  been  made  over  the  whole  region  by  the 
successive  inundations  of  the  Nile  that  have  taken  place 
since  the  time  that  the  monument  was  built. 

Now  it  was  proposed,  about  twenty  years  ago,  by  cer- 
tain men  of  science,  to  employ  workmen  to  dig  down 


80  THE    VALLEY    OF    THE    NILE. 

around  this  pedestal  till  they  came  to  the  foundation  of  it, 
or  rather  to  the  platform  at  or  near  the  surface  of  the 
ground  on  which  such  structures  usually  stand.  By  this 
means  they  expected  to  ascertain  how  great  a  thickness  of 
alluvial  soil  the  river  had  deposited  during  the  time  that 
had  elapsed  between  the  era  when  the  monument  was  built 
and  the  year  when  the  excavation  was  to  be  made,  that  is, 
from  1361  B.C.  to  A.D.  1850,  a  period  of  a  little  over  3200 
years.  They  thought,  moreover,  that  then,  by  digging  or 
boring  still  deeper  into  the  alluvial  bed,  till  they  reached 
the  bottom  of  it,  they  could  easily  calculate  how  much 
time,  at  the  same  rate  of  deposit,  would  be  required  for  the 
whole  work  which  the  river  had  accomplished  in  filling  up 
the  valley. 

This  plan  was  accordingly  carried  into  effect.  The  ex- 
cavation was  made,  and  the  workmen  came  to  the  plat- 
form at  about  nine  feet  below  the  surface  of  the  ground. 
From  something  in  the  finish  of  the  stones,  and  other  ar- 
chitectural marks  in  connection  with  the  known  customs 
of  the  people  of  those  times  in  placing  their  buildings,  it 
was  ascertained  very  precisely  where  the  sui-face  of  the 
ground  was  at  the  time  when  the  monument  was  built.  It 
was  nine  feet  and  four  inches  below  the  present  surface. 
This,  of  course,  gave  nine  feet  and  four  inches  as  the  depth 
of  the  deposit  that  had  been  made  since  the  time  when  the 
statue  was  ei'ected,  which  was  a  period,  as  has  already 
been  stated,  of  about  3200  years. 

This  gave,  as  they  found  on  making  the  calculation,  an 
average  increase  of  three  and  a  half  inches  every  century. 

Such  an  increase  as  this,  it  is  easy  to  perceive,  would  be 
so  slow  as  not  to  manifest  itself  at  all  to  the  ordinary  ob- 
servation of  the  peasants  and  laborers,  or  even  to  the  own- 
ers of  the  land  inhabiting  the  region. 

The  next  question  was  to  ascertain  how  much  farther 


CALCULATIONS.  81 

down  the  alluvial  deposit  extended,  with  a  view  to  deter- 
mining how  much  time  would  be  required,  at  the  same 
rate  of  progress,  for  making  the  whole  deposit.  They  ac- 
cordingly continued  the  excavation  by  a  shaft,  or  well,  for 
a  certain  distance,  and  after  that  by  boring  with  a  kind 
of  auger,  which  would  bring  up  the  materials  cut  through 
so  that  they  could  be  examined,  till  they  had  gone  through 
the  whole  deposit  of  Nile  mud,  and  reached  the  desert 
sand  which  formed  the  original  bottom  of  the  lake  or  arm 
of  the  sea.  They  found  that  the  whole  depth  of  Nile  mud 
which  had  been  deposited  at  that  place  was  thirty-two 
feet,  which,  at  the  rate  of  three  and  a  half  inches  for  every 
century,  gave,  for  the  length  of  time  required  for  the  whole 
operation,  about  13,000  years. 

This  calculation,  both  in  respect  to  the  manner  in  which 
it  was  made  and  the  result  obtained,  is  very  interesting ; 
but  there  are  several  reasons  why,  notwithstanding  the 
mathematical  pretensions  of  the  form  which  it  assumes,  we 
can  not  at  all  place  confidence  in  the  conclusion  as  a  pre- 
cise mathematical  result. 

In  the  first  place,  there  is  no  certainty  that  the  rate  at 
which  the  filling  up  of  the  ancient  bed  or  valley  has  pro- 
ceeded has  always  been  the  same.  There  is  every  reason 
for  believing  that  rivers  are  formed  very  slowly,  in  conse- 
quence of  gradual  changes  in  the  relative  level  of  different 
portions  of  the  earth's  surface,  thus  changing  the  courses 
which  the  water  falling  in  rain  takes  in  flowing  to  the  sea. 
There  is  abundant  evidence  that  such  changes  of  level  are 
continually  taking  place  at  the  present  time,  and  from 
these  and  other  causes  the  rivers,  and  especially  the  small- 
er streams,  are  found  to  vary  much,  from  age  to  age,  in  the 
quantity  of  water  which  flows  in  them.  If  the  Nile  was 
formed  gradually  thus,  by  slow  changes  in  the  level  of  the 
region  which  supplies  it  or  in  the  condition  of  the  moun- 
D2 


82  THE    VALLEY    OF   THE    NILE. 

tains,  or  of  other  causes  affecting  the  quantity  of  rain  fall- 
ing upon  them,  then  the  accumulation  of  the  deposit  may 
have  proceeded,  perhaps  for  many  thousand  years,  very 
much  more  slowly  than  it  has  done  since  the  statue  of 
Rameses  was  built.  On  the  other  hand,  we  can  conceive 
of  many  causes  which  may  have  produced  a  much  more 
rapid  increase  in  former  times  than  now. 

All  that  we  can  know  certainly  is  that  the  evidence  is 
very  strong,  both  from  this  and  from  a  great  many  similar 
and  equally  conclusive  observations  which  have  been  made 
in  different  portions  of  the  globe,  that  the  destructive  and 
reconstructive  process  which  we  see  now  going  on  all  over 
the  earth  have  been  going  on  in  substantially  the  same 
manner  for  periods  of  immense  duration. 

It  is  a  remarkable  circumstance  that  the  workmen,  in 
addition  to  fragments  of  statuary  and  pottery  which  they 
found  in  all  the  upper  portions  of  the  excavation,  brought 
up  by  their  boring  a  piece  of  pottery  evidently,  or  at  least 
to  all  appearance,  the  work  of  man,  from  the  very  bottom 
of  the  deposit,  very  near  to  the  foundation  of  desert  sand 
on  which  it  lies,  thus  indicating  that  the  commencement 
of  the  formation  of  this  deposit,  whatever  the  number  of 
years  may  be  which  have  since  intervened,  was  not  ante- 
rior to  the  existence  of  man ;  for,  though  birds  can  build 
nests,  and  beavers  dams,  no  animal  but  man  has  ever  been 
known  to  make  pottery. 


DOEBIE   MISTAKEN.  83 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   TREE    ON   THE    BANK. 

LAWRENCE  and  John  took  frequent  excursions,  with  va- 
rious objects  in  view,  along  the  banks  of  the  river  within 
a  few  weeks  after  they  returned  home,  and  were  some- 
times accompanied  by  other  persons.  Not  unfrequently 
there  were  young  ladies  joined  to  the  party  in  such  walks. 
On  one  of  these  occasions  Miss  Random  was  with  Law- 
rence and  John,  and  when  they  had  crossed  the  bridge, 
and  were  walking  along  the  bank  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river  from  where  Lawrence  and  John  lived,  they  saw  be- 
fore them  the  tree  which  has  already  been  spoken  of  as 
standing  not  far  from  the  bank. 

"  Ah  !"  said  Miss  Random,  "  here  is  that  tree !  I  want 
to  show  you  that  it  is  just  as  far  from  the  bank  as  ever  it 
was." 

So  they  walked  on  toward  the  tree.  They  observed,  at 
the  same  time,  an  old  man  with  an  axe  upon  his  shoulder 
coming  across  the  grass  from  the  upland  on  the  other  side. 

"  There  !"  said  Dorrie,  when  they  came  near  the  tree. 
"  Don't  you  see  ?" 

The  tree  stood  at  the  distance  of  about  eight  feet  from 
the  edge  of  the  bank.  Lawrence  looked  at  the  space,  and 
then  said  it  seemed  to  him  to  be  nearer  the  bank  than  it 
was  when  he  last  observed  it ;  but  he  would  not  be  posi- 
tive, he  added,  as  he  was  not  certain  enough  of  his  recol- 
lection of  the  position  of  it  to  be  very  confident. 

"I'm  certain  of  mine,"  said  Dorrie.     "I  remember  ex- 


84  THE    TREE    ON    THE    BANK. 

actly  how  it  stood ;  and  it  was  as  near  the  bank  when  I 
was  here  last  as  it  is  now." 

"Then  I  was  mistaken,"  said  Lawrence.  "It  is  very 
easy  for  people  to  be  mistaken  in  respect  to  the  impres- 
sions left  in  such  cases  upon  the  memory." 

"I  knew  that  you  were  mistaken,"  said  Dorrie,  "and 
that  I  could  prove  it,  but  I  was  not  at  all  sure  that  you 
would  be  so  ready  to  admit  it ;  you  collegians  generally 
think  you  know  so  much,  and  are  so  conceited !" 

Miss  Random  said  this  with  a  lurking  smile  upon  her 
countenance,  and  a  furtive  glance  at  Lawrence,  which 
showed  that  she  was  not  very  serious  in  this  her  dispar- 
agement of  collegians. 

The  old  man  was  now  quite  near,  and  Miss  Random, 
who  it  seems  recognized  him,  nodded  to  him,  saying,  "How 
do  you  do,  Mr.  Manly  ?" 

Mr.  Manly  returned  the  salutation,  and  then,  after  laying 
down  his  axe  at  the  foot  of  the  tree,  began  to  take  off  his 
jacket. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Manly,"  exclaimed  Dorrie,  "  what  are  you 
going  to  do  to  this  tree  ?" 

"  I'm  going  to  cut  it  down,"  said  Mr.  Manly. 

"  Cut  it  down  !"  repeated  Miss  Dorrie,  surprised.  "  Why, 
it  is  the  prettiest  tree  on  the  whole  meadow !  What  can 
you  possibly  be  going  to  cut  it  down  for  ?" 

"  To  save  it,"  replied  Mr.  Manly.  And,  so  saying,  he 
folded  his  jacket  loosely,  and  laid  it  down  upon  the  grass 
at  a  little  distance  from  the  tree. 

"  To  save  it !"  repeated  Dorrie  again.  "  That  is  a  funny 
thing.  It  is  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  of  trying  to  save 
a  tree  by  cutting  it  down." 

"  The  wood  of  it,  I  mean,"  said  Mr.  Manly.  "  The  bank 
is  wearing  away  very  fast,  and  I  want  to  save  it  while 
there  is  time.  There's  a  good  cord  of  wood  in  this  tree — 


THE  FARMER'S  OPINION.  87 

possibly  more,  though,  being  an  elm,  it  is  not  the  first  qual- 
ity of  wood." 

Miss  Random  was  somewhat  taken  by  surprise  at  this 
statement,  but  she  did  not  say  any  thing,  neither  did  Law- 
rence, but  both  stood  at  one  side  to  see  the  farmer  cut 
down  his  tree. 

He  took  a  careful  survey  of  the  top  before  he  began,  so 
as  to  determine  how  to  cut  the  scarf  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  cause  the  tree  to  fall  as  much  as  possible  toward  the 
land  side. 

"He  thinks  the  land  is  wearing  away  very  fast,"  said 
Miss  Random,  when  the  farmer  had  commenced  his  chop- 
ping, "but  I  believe  he  is  mistaken.  Farmers  are  always 
foreboding  some  kind  of  evil  to  their  crops  and  ground." 

"  That's  very  true,"  said  Lawrence ;  "  and  so  you  are 
not  unreasonable  in  supposing  that  he  may  be  mistaken  in 
his  apprehensions  in  regard  to  this  tree.  But  I  have  an- 
other argument  to  offer  you,  and  I  should  like  to  hear  what 
you  will  say  to  it.  Understand — I  don't,  in  offering  it,  in- 
sist that  it  is  a  sound  one,  but  only  wish  to  know  how  it 
strikes  your  mind.  About  how  often  do  they  have  fresh- 
ets here  to  overflow  this  land  ?" 

"  Oh,  one  or  two  every  year,"  said  Dorrie. 

"  And  each  freshet  leaves  a  layer  of  sediment  on  the 
land  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Dorrie ;  "  sometimes  we  can't  walk  over  the 
intervales  for  a  week  after  the  water  goes  down,  it  is  so 
muddy  in  among  the  grass." 

"  And  how  thick  is  this  deposit  of  mud,  do  you  suppose 
— I  mean  generally — say  upon  an  average  ?" 

Miss  Random,  after  some  hesitation,  said  she  thought  it 
might  be  an  inch,  perhaps. 

"And  how  long  do  you  suppose  that  this  river  and  these 
intervales  have  been  here  ?"  asked  Lawrence. 


88  THE    TREE    OX   THE    BANK. 

"Ever  since  the  world  was  made,"  said  Miss  Random. 
"  and  that  was  about  six  thousand  years  ago.  That's  in 
the  history." 

Miss  Random's  idea  of  history  was  that  it  was  a  book, 
and  a  school-book  at  that. 

The  words  "  about  six  thousand  years"  formed  the  an- 
swer to  one  of  the  questions  which  had  often  been  asked 
at  the  recitations  in  her  school,  so  she  knew  the  answer 
perfectly  well. 

"Well,  now,  suppose  we  call  the  annual  deposit  only 
half  what  you  suppose  it  to  be,  that  is,  one  half  of  an  inch 
instead  of  a  whole  inch,  it  would  give  3000  inches  as  the 
whole  height  raised  in  6000  years.  How  many  feet  would 
that  be  ?" 

"You  must  divide  it  by  12,"  said  Dorrie. 

Miss  Dorrie  was  a  very  good  scholar  in  arithmetic  as 
well  as  in  history.  She  ran  through  the  work  of  division 
in  her  mind,  and  then  said  the  answer  was  250  feet. 

"That  seems  to  show,"  said  Lawrence,  "that  this  inter- 
vale can  not  have  been  here  in  its  present  form  all  that 
time,  for,  instead  of  being  250  feet,  it  is  not  more  than  eight 
feet  above  the  bottom  of  the  river.  This  shows  that,  if 
our  estimate  of  the  annual  quantity  deposited  is  correct, 
the  whole  of  this  intervale  must  have  been  formed  in  the 
course  of  one  or  two  hundred  years,  and  that,  consequent- 
ly, before  that  time  the  river  itself  must  have  flowed  over 
the  ground  where  it  now  lies." 

"Then  we  must  have  estimated  the  amount  too  high," 
said  Miss  Random.  "  Let  us  ask  Mr.  Manly." 

Mr.  Manly  had  by  this  time  finished  cutting  the  scarf  on 
the  land  side  of  the  tree,  and  was  shifting  his  position  to 
the  other  side.  Miss  Random  took  this  opportunity  to  ask 
»he  question  how  much  mud  he  thought  the  river  left  on 
the  land  after  each  overflow. 


OLD   POND   FILLED    UP.  89 

He  said  it  would  be  very  difficult  to  answer  the  ques- 
tion on  account  of  the  great  difference  at  different  years. 

"  All  I  know,"  said  he,  "  is  that  it  generally  gives  my 
land  a  good  rich  dressing.  I  knew  one  freshet,  a  few  years 
ago,  that  left  from  three  to  four  inches  of  mud  all  over  it. 
But  that  was  a  very  high  freshet,  and  the  water  remained 
up  a  long  time.  I  lost  that  year  as  much  as  fifty  dollars 
worth  of  corn  that  I  had  stacked  up  at  a  place  that  I  thought 
was  entirely  out  of  danger.  But  then  it  put  a  dressing  on 
all  my  land  that  it  would  have  cost  me  two  hundred  dol- 
lars to  have  put  on  myself  with  my  team. 

"  What  the  average  would  be,"  continued  the  fanner, u  I 
can  not  tell.  One  thing  I  know.  Do  you  see  that  sag  in 
the  ground  out  there,  at  the  edge  of  the  intervale,  along  the 
margin  of  the  upland  ?  When  I  first  came  here,  forty-three 
years  ago,  there  was  a  long  pond  there  four  or  five  feet 
deep.  I  know  how  deep  it  was,  because  I  had  to  fill  up  a 
place  to  cross  over  it  in  making  a  road  down  by  this  inter- 
vale. I  suppose  it  was  some  old  reach  of  the  river.  The 
boys  used  to  skate  there  then.  After  a  while,  however, 
it  filled  up  so  that  all  summer  it  was  a  mere  marsh.  But 
now  it's  getting  to  be  pretty  solid  land,  and  begins  to  bear 
tolerable  grass,  though  rather  coarse  yet." 

So  saying,  the  farmer  resumed  his  work  upon  the  tree. 

"I  don't  believe  that  the  river  ever  went  away  round 
there,"  said  Dorrie.  "  It  is  not  possible.  If  there  was 
really  such  a  pond  there,  as  he  says,  when  he  came,  it  was 
there  always." 

"And  what  do  you  say  to  the  argument,"  asked  Law- 
rence, "  about  the  time  that  this  whole  intervale  has  been 
here,  as  proved  by  the  rate  it  is  now  filling  up  ?" 

"  I  don't  believe  it  is  filling  up  so  fast,  after  all,"  said 
Miss  Random.  "  Of  course,  I  know  you  can  beat  me  in  the 
argument.  I  never  was  much  at  arguing  and  disputing. 


90  THE    TREE    OX    THE    BANK. 

Besides,  if  all  this  land  is  made  over  and  over  again,  where 
does  the  river  get  all  the  earth  to  make  it  with  ?  All  the 
loose  earth  there  is  among  the  mountains  and  hills  where 
the  river  comes  from  would  have  been  all  washed  away 
long  before  this  time.  Just  think  of  six  thousand  years  1" 

"  As  fast  as  the  loose  earth  is  washed  away,"  said  Law- 
rence, "  the  rocks  which  form  the  hills  crumble  and  break 
away  so  as  to  make  more." 

"  Not  enough,"  said  Dorrie.  "  They  may  wear  away  a 
little,  but  not  much  ;  for  if  they  wore  away  much,  then,  in 
time,  they  would  be  all  worn  away  entirely.  But  the  Bible 
says  the  hills  are  everlasting.  What  do  you  say  to  that? 
Come !  it's  your  turn  to  answer  an  argument  now.  The 
Bible  says  the  everlasting  hills !" 

So  saying,  Miss  Random  looked  toward  Lawrence  with 
a  smile  of  triumph  and  pleasure. 

Now  if  Lawrence  had  been  a  mere  boy,  he  would  have 
tried  to  reply  to  this  argument,  and,  in  his  endeavor  to  re- 
gain the  advantage  for  his  side,  would  have  continued  the 
discussion,  and  would,  in  the  end,  have  disturbed  and  dis- 
quieted Miss  Random's  mind  without  really  making  any 
progress  in  leading  her  to  see  the  truth.  It  is  generally 
useless  to  attempt  to  force  people  to  see  what  they  do  not 
wish  to  see.  But  boys  in  such  cases,  especially  if  they  are 
pretty  smart  boys,  generally  go  on  disputing  for  the  sake 
of  victory,  and  end  in  making  both  their  companion  and 
themselves  uncomfortable  and  unhappy.  A  gentleman^  on 
the  other  hand,  if  he  sees  that  the  person  whom  he  is  talk- 
ing with,  especially  if  it  is  a  lady,  is  in  a  resisting  state  of 
mind,  at  once  ceases  to  press  his  opinion  and  to  reply  to 
her  objections,  but  yields  good-naturedly,  leaving  her  in 
possession  of  the  ground. 

Now  Lawrence  was  not  a  boy,  but  a  gentleman  ;  and 
so,  when  Miss  Random  asked  him  what  he  had  to  say  to 


THE    TKEE    FALLS.  91 

that  argument,  replied  that  he  did  not  see  exactly  what  he 
could  say. 

"  I  shall  have  to  give  it  up,"  he  said ;  "  but  I  don't  think 
you  can  say  you  are  not  very  good  at  an  argument,  for  I 
don't  believe  any  body  could  possibly  have  managed  your 
side  of  the  question  more  skillfully  than  you  have." 

Miss  Dorrie  was  much  pleased  with  this  compliment, 
and  it  relieved  her  mind,  which  had  begun  to  be  a  little 
disturbed  by  the  pressure  of  Lawrence's  proofs  against  her 
previous  notions,  and  brought  it  into  quite  a  placid  condi- 
tion. Just  then,  too,  the  top  of  the  tree  began  slowly  to 
incline  in  the  direction  toward  which  the  old  farmer  had 
intended  it  to  fall. 

"Look!  look !"  said  Dorrie.     "It  is  going." 

Lawrence  and  John  looked.  The  top  Avas  moving  very 
slowly — almost  insensibly,  in  fact — but  it  went  on,  faster 
and  faster,  in  a  very  grand  and  majestic  manner,  until  at 
length  it  came  down  with  a  mighty  crash  to  the  ground. 
The  limbs  on  the  lower  side  were  jammed  together  in  a 
fearful  entanglement.  Some  were  broken  off,  and  the  sharp 
ends  driven  far  into  the  soil.  One,  however,  larger  and 
stouter  than  the  rest,  held  good,  and  kept  the  top  up  some 
feet  from  the  ground.  Mr.  Manly  cut  this  one  away  first, 
so  as  to  let  the  trunk  entirely  down,  and  then  began  his 
work  of  trimming  off  all  the  branches,  and  cutting  up  the 
stem  into  what  he  called  "  four-foot  lengths,"  to  make  it 
convenient  to  be  loaded  upon  his  sled  as  soon  as  the 
ground  should  be  covered  by  the  first  snow. 

After  watching  this  process  for  some  time  our  party  of 
ramblers  set  out  on  their  return  home. 

Before  closing  this  chapter  I  must  give  a  brief  account 
of  what  befell  the  stump  of  this  tree  in  its  subsequent  his- 
tory, as  it  affords  a  striking  illustration  and  example  of 
some  of  the  curious  effects  produced  by  the  action  of  the 


92  THE    TREE    ON    THE    BANK. 

water  winding  through  these  alluvial  lands.  At  the  time 
when  the  tree  was  cut  down,  Lawrence  and  Miss  Dorrie,  on 
looking  over  the  bank,  saw  that  some  of  the  roots  had  al- 
ready been  reached,  and  were  beginning  to  be  laid  bare. 
They  saw  them  extending  out  into  the  current,  some  of 
them  floating,  like  long,  slender  whip-lashes,  in  the  water ; 
for,  although  the  tree  was  still  eight  or  ten  feet  from  the 
bank,  as  the  roots  of  such  an  elm  extend  sometimes  for 
twenty  or  thirty  feet  from  the  trunk,  it  was  not  surprising 
that  some  of  them  were  denuded.  John  climbed  down  the 
bank,  and  contrived  to  cut  off  two  or  three  of  these  slen- 
der roots,  being  attracted  by  their  length  and  flexibility, 
and  their  resemblance  to  long  whip-lashes. 

In  the  course  of  the  next  year  the  river  had  advanced 
to  the  stump  itself,  and  all  the  roots  on  that  side  were  un- 
covered ;  but,  being  saturated  with  water,  as  roots  usually 
are,  they  were  too  heavy  to  float,  though  they  were  borne 
downward  by  the  current. 

Presently,  late  in  the  fall,  after  an  unusual  freshet,  the 
stump  itself  was  undermined  and  sank  slowly  down,  to- 
gether with  a  considerable  portion  of  the  bank  which  clung 
to  it,  and  there  it  remained  all  winter,  tipped  over  and 
half  in  the  water,  but  still  held  in  its  place  by  the  vast 
net-work  of  roots  which  extended  landward  into  the  bank. 
If  any  one  had  then  come  and  cut  those  roots  away — and 
this  could  easily  have  been  done,  as  they  were  strained  to 
their  utmost  tension  by  the  weight  of  the  stump — there 
might  perhaps  have  been  buoyancy  enough  in  the  wood  of 
that  part  of  the  stump  which  had  grown  above  ground  to 
have  floated  it  away ;  or,  if  not,  it  might  have  been  frozen 
in  by  the  ice  which  formed  during  the  winter,  and  then,  at 
the  rise  of  the  river  in  the  spring,  and  the  breaking  up  of 
the  ice,  it  might  have  been  lifted  and  floated  away,  hang- 
ing to  a  great  cake  of  the  ice,  a  fate  which  befalls  many  a 


FATE    OF   THE    STUMP.  93 

stump,  and  water-soaked  log,  and  loose  rock  lying  along 
the  shores  of  such  a  stream. 

But  this  did  not  happen  to  the  stump  of  Mr.  Manly's 
tree.  It  was  held  by  the  roots  until  the  earth  was  washed 
away  on  both  sides  of  it,  and  it  had  gradually  settled  down 
upon  the  bottom,  still  retaining  its  natural  upright  posi- 
tion, and  held  in  place  by  the  ends  of  the  long  roots  which 
yet  penetrated  for  some  distance  into  the  bank;  and  it 
continued  to  be  held  by  these  roots  until  those  which  had 
been  freed  and  were  spread  out  over  the  bottom  were  cov- 
ered with  the  sand  and  gravel  which  the  river  brought 
down.  It  had  settled  down  so  low,  too,  that  the  top  was 
entirely  under  water ;  for  the  channel  directly  under  such 
a  bank  is  always  washed  out  deeper  near  the  bank  than  it 
is  farther  away.  While  it  was  in  this  position,  John  and 
the  other  boys,  when  they  went  in  swimming  that  sum- 
mer, used  to  find  it  and  use  it  for  a  pier  to  dive  from ;  for 
the  top  of  it  was  only  a  few  inches  below  the  surface  when 
the  water  was  low,  and  sometimes  in  midsummer  it  came 
just  above  the  wrater. 

In  the  mean  time  the  river  went  on  wearing  away  the 
bank  more  and  more,  and  moving  itself  and  the  deep  part 
of  the  channel  farther  and  farther  to  the  eastward,  until 
the  stump  was  brought,  still  upright  and  immovable,  into 
the  middle  of  the  stream.  John  was  away  at  school  dur- 
ing this  period  in  the  history  of  the  stump,  but  the  other 
boys  of  the  neighborhood,  when  they  went  into  the  river 
to  bathe,  used  to  amuse  themselves  by  finding  this  stump 
and  standing  upon  it,  shouting  to  their  companions,  and 
diving  from  it ;  and  once,  in  one  of  his  vacations,  John 
himself  swam  out  to  it.  He  found,  however,  somewhat  to 
his  curprise,  that  the  water  was  not  more  than  two  feet 
deep  where  the  stump  then  was,  and  that  the  top  of  it  was 
only  about  ten  inches  above  the  sand  and  pebbles. 


94  THE   TREE    OX   THE    BANK. 

His  first  idea  was  that  the  stump  was  gradually  sinking 
into  the  ground ;  but  he  soon  reflected  that  it  was  not  the 
sinking  of  the  stump,  but  the  filling  up  of  gravel  and  sand 
around  it,  which  produced  the  apparent  difference  in  its 
position ;  for  the  river,  in  wearing  away  the  land  on  one 
side  and  building  it  up  on  the  other,  carries  on  the  opera- 
tion under  the  water  as  well  as  in  the  air,  so  that,  in  wad- 
ing across  the  river,  the  boys  always  found  that  near  the 
steep  side,  where  the  earth  was  gradually  caving  in,  the 
water  was  very  deep,  but  it  soon  began  to  grow  shallower 
as  they  waded  over  toward  the  other  side.  In  the  middle 
of  the  stream  it  was  only  about  two  feet  in  depth,  and  con- 
tinued to  shoal  gradually,  more  and  more,  to  the  pebbly 
beach  which  formed  the  opposite  shore ;  so  that,  as  the 
stump  moved  across  the  river  from  east  to  west,  or,  rather, 
as  the  river  worked  its  way  past  it  from  west  to  east, 
while  the  stump  itself  remained  really  at  the  same  level, 
the  sand  and  gravel  forming  the  bottom  of  the  river  rose 
around  it,  until  at  last,  when  it  had  completely  made  the 
passage,  the  top  of  it  was  several  inches  under  ground. 

Thus  it  commenced  its  transition  on  the  top  of  the  bank 
upon  one  side  of  the  river;  its  first  step  was  to  sink  down 
the  bank  eight  or  ten  feet,  to  the  bottom  of  the  bed  of  the 
stream,  and  there  to  remain,  while  the  river,  in  the  course 
of  years,  gradually  moved  over  it,  leaving  it,  however,  all 
the  time  undisturbed  at  its  new  and  lower  level ;  so  that 
when,  in  future  years,  the  bank  on  the  western  side  should 
be  built  up  to  its  full  level,  and  be  covered  with  grass 
and  trees,  or  with  fields  of  waving  grain,  the  stump  would 
remain,  preserved  perhaps  by  being  enveloped  in  water, 
or  -watery  sand,  until  the  river  again,  a  century  or  two 
later,  in  the  course  of  its  never-ending  windings,  should 
once  more  bring  it  into  view,  just  as  it  was  now  bringing 
into  view  the  log,  the  projecting  end  of  which  John 


DISAPPEARANCE    OF   THE    STUMP.  95 

had  discovered  some  days  before,  standing  on  the  bank 
above. 

Thus,  although  to  the  boys,  who  had  watched  the  prog- 
ress of  the  change  in  their  summer  bathings,  it  seemed  that 
the  stump  had,  in  some  mysterious  way,  worked  its  way 
through  the  sand  from  one  side  of  the  river  to  the  other, 
it  had  really  not  changed  its  place  at  all,  except  to  subside 
perpendicularly  eight  or  ten  feet,  from  the  level  of  the  sur- 
face of  the  intervale  to  that  of  the  bottom  of  the  river, 
and  to  be  gradually  buried  there  by  the  sand  and  gravel 
brought  over  it  by  the  river,  while  the  river  itself,  passing 
beyond  it,  bade  it  farewell,  not  to  see  it  again  perhaps  for 
several  hundred  years. 


96 


RAIN. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

RAIN. 


THE  question  which  Miss  Ran- 
dom asked  in  respect  to  where  the    ";$"» 
rivers  of  the  world  obtained  all  the 
materials  it  required  for  the  vast  forma- 
tions of  land  which  they  were  consequent- 
ly engaged  in  making,  if  the  views  which 
Lawrence  had  expressed  were  correct,  is  a 
very  important  one ;  for,  although  the  riv- 
ers, in  the  incessant  changes  which  they 
make,  work  the  same  material  over  and  over  again,  yet  in 
every  change  these  materials  are  carried  farther  and  far- 
ther down  the  stream ;  that  is,  as  the  sand  and  soil  which 


liRINK   NOT   WOI 


GENERAL   DENUDATION.  97 

the  water  obtains  by  the  undermining  and  carrying  away 
of  one  meadow  is  only  available  in  building  up  others, 
often  some  miles  below,  so  that  by  every  change  they  are 
carried  farther  down,  and  are  finally  swept  into  the  sea,  it 
is  evident  that  as  there  is  such  a  vast  and  constant  prog- 
ress downward  of  the  mass  of  material  which  the  river 
acts  upon,  there  must  be,  in  some  way  or  other,  an  equally 
constant  and  vast  renewal  of  the  supply  from  above.  How 
this  is  is  now 'to  be  explained. 

In  the  first  place,  no  one,  without  giving  special  thought 
to  the  subject,  would  be  aware  what  vast  quantities  of 
such  material  are  carried  off  by  every  rain  from  the  gen- 
eral surface  of  the  country  through  which  the  river  and  its 
branches  flow.  The  system  of  rivers  makes  a  much  more 
complete  and  complicated  net-work,  covering  the  whole 
country,  than  we  generally  suppose.  We  look  at  maps, 
usually,  in  order  to  find  towns,  or  counties,  or  rail-roads, 
or  other  designations  referring  to  the  action  of  man ;  but 
if  we  look  at  one  solely  with  reference  to  the  rivers,  we 
shall  be  surprised  to  see  how  many  there  are,  and  how 
small  are  the  portions  of  territory  not  traversed  by  them 
or  by  some  of  their  branches.  Then  none  but  the  princi- 
pal rivers  and  the  largest  branches  of  them  are  represent- 
ed on  the  maps ;  all  the  smaller  tributaries,  the  streams, 
and  brooks,  and  rivulets  innumerable,  are  omitted.  If 
these  were  all  laid  down  in  lines  distinctly  visible,  we 
should  be  surprised  to  see  in  how  complete  and  in  how 
complicated  a  manner  they  spread  themselves  over  the 
whole  surface  of  the  ground. 

And  these,  moreover,  are  only  the  permanent  streams. 
Every  powerful  rain  brings  into  being  millions  of  tempo- 
rary ones,  running  in  every  road,  descending  every  hill- 
side, flowing  between  the  furrows  of  every  field,  and  per- 
colating through  the  grass  in  every  pasture,  and  among 
E 


the  fallen  leaves  in  every  wood.  All  these  streamlets  and 
rills,  which  sometimes,  when  the  slope  is  long  and  the  way 
is  unobstructed,  as  in  roads,  and  the  rain  is  very  copious, 
as  in  the  heavy  thunder-shower,  become  what  might  almost 
be  called  torrents,  and  they  all  bear  with  them  large  quan- 
tities of  sand  and  soil,  which  they  convey  and  deliver  to 
the  nearest  permanent  stream  that  they  find  in  the  valley 
below.  By  this  stream  the  material  thus  provided  is  borne 
onward,  in  its  turbid  flow,  to  the  nearest  river,  and  in  this 
way  a  large  portion  of  the  supply  that  we  are  seeking  for 
is  obtained. 

The  rills  and  streamlets  thus  brought  into  existence  by 
the  rain,  notwithstanding  the  large  portion  of  the  rain-fall 
which  is  absorbed  directly  by  the  ground,  are  so  numerous 
that  there  is,  in  an  undulating  or  hilly  country,  scarcely  any 
portion  of  the  surface  which  is  not  drained  of  some  water 
by  means  of  them,  and  with  the  water  some  portion  of 
the  ground  itself  is  carried  away.  The  flowing  streams 
are  aided  very  much  in  the  work  of  obtaining  the  load  of 
soil  which  they  have  to  transport  in  two  ways :  first,  in 
the  cold  and  temperate  regions  of  the  eai-tb,  by  the  action 
of  frost ;  and  secondly,  in  all  inhabited  countries,  by  the 
operations  of  man. 

1.  The  frost  loosens  the  soil  very  much,  and  softens  it, 
so  that  the  rain  can  easily  detach  the  several  portions  of  it 
and  bear  them  away.  There  is  something  well  worthy  of 
attention  in  the  manner  in  which  it  effects  this  object. 
Water,  as  it  is  well  known,  swells  in  freezing.  By  thus 
swelling,  which,  of  course,  takes  place  in  moist  ground  in 
all  the  interstices  and  intervening  spaces  in  the  sand  or 
gravel,  and  even  between  the  most  minute  particles  of  the 
finest  clay,  it  separates  the  portions  of  every  substance 
that  it  pervades.  It  does  this  with  immense  force — a  force 
so  enormous  that  it  will  lift  the  heaviest  buildings  which 


EFFECT   OF  FKOST.  99 

rest  upon  ground  exposed  to  its  action,  and  burst  the 
strongest  vessels  in  which  the  water  is  confined.  Then, 
when  the  ground  becomes  warm  again,  so  that  the  frozen 
water  in  the  interstices  is  melted,  and  in  melting  shrinks, 
the  whole  mass  is  left  in  a  loosened  and  softened  condi- 
tion, so  that  the  rain  can  easily  wash  it  away. 

The  peculiar  softness  of  the  mud  in  the  roads,  which  we 
all  notice  in  the  spring  of  the  year — so  different  from  that 
which  is  produced  by  rain  during  the  summer,  is  due  to 
this  cause. 

In  many  places,  and  in  particular  kinds  of  soil,  the  effect 
of  the  frost  is  very  much  aided  by  the  shrinking  of  the 
ground  in  the  warm,  dry  weather  of  summer,  by  which 
cracks,  and  sometimes  quite  deep  fissures  are  opened, 
which  are  afterward  filled  with  water  by  the  rain. 

The  water,  thus  pervading  the  interstices  and  pores  in 
the  earth,  not  only  exercises  great  expansive  force  in  the 
freezing  together  of  such  aqueous  particles  as  are  in  juxta- 
position with  each  other,  but  it  seems  to  have  also  a  mys- 
terious power  of  drawing  other  particles  to  it  in  the  act 
of  freezing — which  is  a  process  of  crystallization — in  such 
a  way  as  to  force  back  out  of  the  way  the  particles  of 
other  substances  that  were  near  enough  to  interfere  with 
the  process.  The  simplest  example  of  this  is  the  case  of 
frost  upon  the  windows.  The  frost  sometimes  forms  to 
the  depth  of  a  twentieth  of  an  inch  in  thickness,  and  even 
more.  For  the  formation  of  this  amount  of  frost-work,  of 
course  a  much  greater  quantity  of  water  is  required  than 
would  be  naturally  contained  in  the  stratum  of  air  of  that 
thickness  which  comes  in  contact  with  the  pane.  Thus,  as 
in  all  cases  in  the  process  of  crystallization,  the  first  layer 
of  particles  has,  in  some  way,  the  power  of  drawing  to  it- 
self a  second  layer,  and  the  second  a  third,  and  so  on  till 
the  process  is  interrupted.  Thus  the  water,  in  taking  the 


100  BAIN. 

form  of  ice  draws  the  other  particles  of  water  to  it,  and 
forces  back  the  air  by  so  doing. 

Now  the  air  being  a  gas,  and  the  particles  of  it  moving 
so  easily,  the  forcing  of  it  back,  it  must  be  confessed,  is  no 
great  feat  on  the  part  of  the  crystallizing  power.  A  little 
more  force  is  required  when  crystallization  takes  place 
with  some  substance  dissolved  in  water,  where  we  see  sub- 
stantially the  same  effect  produced  as  in  the  air.  The  sub- 
stance crystallizing  has  the  power  of  selecting  the  particles 
of  the  solution  which  are  of  like  kind  with  itself,  and  at- 
taches them  to  it  in  forcing  the  water  away. 

Now  if  we  only  observed  this  power  as  exercised  in 
liquids  and  gases,  we  might  consider  it  so  slight  as  not  to 
be  at  all  remarkable ;  but  we  see  the  same  thing  substan- 
tially taking  place  in  quite  solid  ground.  Farmers,  in  dig- 
ging in  the  spring  into  a  bank  of  loam  or  clay,  often  find  a 
layer  of  pure  and  transparent  ice,  from  a  quarter  to  half  an 
inch  thick,  which  has  been  formed  there  apparently  by 
some  mysterious  force  brought  into  action  by  the  process 
of  crystallization,  by  which  the  aqueous  particles  in  the 
mass  have  been  brought  together,  and  the  substance  of  the 
clay  or  loam  pressed  back  to  make  room  for  the  icy  stra- 
tum they  were  forming. 

It  is  probable,  or  at  least  possible,  that  it  is  by  some 
process  more  or  less  analogous  to  this  that  the  perfect  and 
transparent  crystals  which  we  find  imbedded  in  solid  rock 
have  been  formed.  If  this  is  so,  it  would  seem  that  there 
must  have  been  some  degree  of  plasticity  or  partial  fluid- 
ity in  the  substance  of  the  rock  containing  the  crystal  to 
allow  of  the  process  going  on,  though  we  do  not  know  at 
all  to  what  extent  changes  may  take  place  in  the  internal 
construction  of  what  we  consider  perfectly  solid  bodies  in 
immensely  long  periods  of  time.  But  if  we  consider  some 
degree  of  sensible  mobility  among  the  particles  of  the  sub- 


ACTION    OF   MAN.  101 

stance  necessary  to  allow  of  the  formation  of  a  crystal 
within  it,  we  may  suppose  the  process  to  have  gone  on 
either  before  the  materials  of  which  the  stratum  of  rock 
had  been  consolidated,  as  in  the  case  of  the  layer  of  ice 
above  referred  to,  or  afterward,  when  they  were  liquefied 
by  being  exposed  to  great  heat  far  beneath  the  surface  of 
the  ground.  That  many  of  the  strata  which  we  now  see 
upon  the  earth's  surface  have  at  some  time  or  other  been 
exposed  to  such  heat,  we  shall  see  as  we  go  on. 

But  to  return  to  the  rain.  The  frost,  in  the  various 
ways  above  described,  and  in  all  countries  exposed  to  it, 
accomplishes  a  vast  work  in  preparing  the  ground  to  be 
carried  away  by  the  rills  and  brooklets  resulting  from  the 
rain. 

2.  And  then,  in  the  second  place,  the  operations  of  man 
in  making  excavations,  constructing  roads,  and  plowing 
and  tilling  the  fields,  in  all  countries  occupied  by  human 
inhabitants,  greatly  facilitates  the  washing  away  of  the 
soil  by  the  rains.  Men  do  all  they  can  to  prevent  this  re- 
sult. They  leave  or  form  water-courses  by  the  road-sides. 
They  make  drains  and  culverts  of  solid  matei'ials  to  pre- 
vent the  earth  under  and  around  them  from  being  carried 
away.  In  plowing  their  fields,  they  are  always  careful  to 
run  the  furrows  along  the  hill-sides,  and  not  up  and  down, 
so  as  to  prevent  the  furrows  from  becoming  channels  for 
the  rills.  They  are  specially  interested  in  preventing  the 
wearing  action  of  the  water  as  much  as  they  can  in  both 
these  cases ;  for  the  loss  of  what  is  thus  taken  away  is  a 
loss  of  so  much  consolidating  material  from  the  road,  and 
of  fertility  from  the  fields. 

But  while  the  works  of  man  do  so  much  to  aid  the  rains 
and  the  streams  in  their  work  of  carrying  off  the  land  into 
the  sea,  some  of  the  operations  of  nature,  on  the  other 
hand,  exert  a  vast  influence  in  restricting  and  curtailing  it. 


102  RAIN. 

The  turf  with  which  she  covers  the  ground  holds  the  soil 
firmly,  and  prevents  its  being  washed  away.  So  do  the 
roots  of  trees  clinging  to  declivities,  and  the  leaves  which 
fall  upon  the  ground  in  woods  and  forests,  and  cover  the 
whole  surface  of  it  with  a  matting,  which,  while  it  allows 
the  water  to  percolate  through  it  to  the  soil  beneath,  effect- 
ually protects  the  soil  itself  from  being  conveyed  away. 

The  only  hope  for  the  rain  in  circumventing  nature  in 
these  her  attempts  to  protect  her  treasures  is  in  making  a 
breach  and  commencing  the  work  of  mining.  For  in  an 
undermining  operation,  if  it  can  once  make  a  beginning,  a 
stream  of  water  has  vast  power.  It  is  very  easy  to  pro- 
tect the  ground  from  the  action  of  running  water  if  you  do 
not  allow  it  to  get  underneath  the  surface. 

Lawrence  had  an  opportunity  to  call  John's  attention  to 
the  peculiar  and  very  remarkable  action  of  running  water 
in  digging  into  the  ground  one  afternoon  when  they  were 
coming  home  from  a  fishing  excui-sion  which  they  had 
made  together  at  some  distance  among  the  hills.  They 
were  stopped  on  their  way  by  a  thunder-shower.  They 
drove  under  an  open  shed  that  stood  by  the  wayside  at  a 
country  store  to  escape  from  the  rain,  and  remained  there 
for  nearly  half  an  hour.  By  that  time  the  rain  had  almost 
ceased,  and  they  resumed  their  journey.  The  water  was 
still  running  rapidly  in  little  rills  down  all  the  declivities 
in  the  road,  and  Lawrence  called  John  to  observe  the  tend- 
ency of  these  brooklets  to  form  little  waterfalls  and  cas- 
cades in  their  course. 

For  the  roads  in  that  region  were  formed  of  the  natural 
soil,  which,  of  course,  while  it  became  hardened  upon  the 
surface  by  the  pressure  of  wheels  and  the  feet  of  horses 
and  oxen,  remained  somewhat  softer  underneath ;  and 
wherever  the  water  wore  through  the  upper  portion,  it 
would  dig  deeper  and  deeper  as  it  fell  over  from  the  edge 


EXCAVATING   EFFECT.  103 

above  into  the  little  chasm  which  it  made  for  itself  be- 
low. 

John  had  often  observed  such  mimic  cataracts  in  the 
course  of  the  streams  running  along  the  roads  and  by 
road-sides,  but  he  never  had  paid  any  attention  to  the  ex- 
act nature  of  the  action  of  the  water  by  which  they  were 
formed. 

"  The  water  runs  along,"  he  said  to  Lawrence, "  upon  the 
top  of  the  ground  till  it  reaches  the  brink  of  the  fall,  and 
then  pitches  over  and  digs  away  at  the  bottom  of  it. 
Why  doesn't  it  wear  away  the  brink,  and  so  gradually 
make  its  bed  a  regular  incline,  instead  of  going  in  a  series 
of  pitches  ?" 

In  one  case,  when  a  rivulet  of  considerable  size  was  run- 
ning, the  stream  kept  along  pretty  nearly  on  the  top  of  the 
ground  till  it  came  to  a  certain  point,  and  then  it  pitched 
down  all  at  once  to  a  depth  of  nearly  eighteen  inches  in  a 
deep  gully  which  it  had  made  itself,  and  which  extended 
down  the  hill  for  several  rods,  with  steep  caving  sides  all 
the  way. 

"  That's  the  way  that  great  ravines  are  formed,"  said 
Lawrence,  "  only  it  requires  a  long  series  of  years  some- 
times, and  a  great  many  rains,  to  form  them,  instead  of 
one  single  summer  shower." 

The  following  engraving  shows  precisely  the  same  ac- 
tion of  running  water  upon  rocks  that  John  saw  the  rill 
from  the  rain  effecting  in  the  road.  It  is  a  view  of  a  fall 
in  South  America,  as  given  us  in  the  report  of  a  traveler 
visiting  those  countries.  Examples,  however,  of  the  same 
kind  abound  every  where.  The  wearing  away  of  rocks  by 
such  streams  is,  of  course,  vastly  more  slow  than  that  of 
earth,  but  the  nature  of  the  process,  and  the  peculiar  effect 
resulting,  are  in  both  cases  much  the  same.  By  compar- 
ing the  size  of  the  men  with  the  height  of  the  fall,  the 


104 


FALL  IN  SOUTH  AMERICA. 


reader  will  obtain  an  idea  of  the  immense  magnitude  of  the 
excavation  made  by  comparatively  so  small  a  stream. 

John  thought  that  it  must  require  a  very  large  stream 
too,  as  well  as  a  long  continuance  of  its  action,  to  make  a 
great  ravine ;  but  Lawrence  said — what  was  undoubtedly 
true — that  very  small  rivulets  were  sufficient  to  accom- 
plish a  vast  work  of  this  kind,  if  they  had  only  time. 

The  action  of  streams  of  water  in  cutting  channels  for 


FORMATION   OF   CASCADES. 


105 


themselves  by  the  wearing  away  of  rocks  is  usually  of  the 
same  nature  as  that  shown  in  these  rills  that  run  along  the 
roads  during  a  shower;  that  is,  the  chief  effect  is  produced 
by  the  undermining  action  of  the  water  at  the  foot  of  the 
fall,  and  not  by  wearing  away  the  edge  where  it  glides  over 
at  the  top  of  it.  We  see  this  in  almost  all  pictures  of  water- 


A   SLOPING    FALL. 

E2 


106 

falls,  which  show  rocks  broken  and  disturbed  below,  while 
the  edge  of  the  fall  above  is  often  very  smooth  and  sharply 
defined.  This  is  shown  very  clearly  in  the  view  of  a  cer- 
tain portion  of  the  Trenton  Falls  placed  at  the  commence 
ment  of  this  chapter. 

Very  much  depends,  however,  in  respect  to  this  effect, 
upon  the  comparative  hardness  of  the  upper  and  lower 
strata  of  rocks  forming  the  bed  of  the  river.  Where  the 
upper  strata  are  the  softest,  so  as  to  be  much  the  most 
easily  worn  away,  then  a  sloping  rather  than  a  perpendic- 
ular fall  results,  as  shown  in  the  preceding  engraving. 

Sometimes  the  constitution  of  the  bed  of  the  stream  is 
such  that  the  wearing  of  the  water  has  the  effect  of  pro- 
ducing no  abrupt  fall  at  all,  but  only  a  series  of  cascades 
extending  sometimes  for  several  miles. 

But  to  return  to  the  action  of  the  rain.  The  manner  in 
which  vast  ravines  are  sometimes  formed  by  the  action  of 
occasional  streams  even  of  mere  surface-water  furnished  by 
rains,  or  by  very  small  permanent  streams,  will  be  explain- 
ed more  fully  in  the  next  chapter. 


FORMATION   OP   GULLIES.  107 


CHAPTER  X. 

RAVINES. 

PERSONS  living  in  regions  where  there  is  much  alluvial 
land,  or  hills  formed  of  loam  and  sand  which  water  can 
easily  wear  away,  often  see  such  ravines  as  are  described 
in  the  last  chapter  formed  by  a  gradual  process  extending 
sometimes  through  a  long  course  of  years.  Some  acci- 
dental break  in  the  turf,  or  in  the  surface-covering  of  roots 
and  leaves,  takes  place.  The  digging  out  of  a  stone  by  the 
farmers — the  upturning  of  a  tree  by  the  wind — a  hole  made 
by  an  animal,  or  any  other  similar  casualty,  may  give  the 
rain  an  opportunity  to  begin  its  work.  Then,  if  the  strata 
below  are  sandy,  or  are  formed  of  any  kind  of  soil  easily 
washed  away,  and  if  the  conformation  of  the  land  above 
is  such  as  to  bring  down  the  waters  of  summer  showers 
toward  the  spot,  they  soon  commence  the  excavation  of  a 
ravine.  And  if  the  process  is  not  arrested,  it  will  go  on, 
sometimes  for  years,  working  backward  every  year,  until, 
in  many  cases,  an  immense  valley — some  miles  in  length, 
and  hundreds  of  yards  wide — is  produced,  and  all  by  the 
effect  only  of  spring  and  summer  showers,  without  any 
permanent  stream  whatever. 

Observing  persons  often  see  such  gullies  in  process  of 
formation,  and  the  books  of  geology  describe  and  give 
views  of  them  in  different  stages  of  their  growth.  The 
streamlet  after  each  shower  comes  trickling  along  through 
the  grass  without  attracting  any  attention  or  producing 
any  special  effect  till  it  arrives  at  the  brink.  Then,  by  its 
fall — which  may  be  through  a  space  of  ten  or  twenty  feet 


108  KA  VINES. 

— it  acquires  such  momentum  that,  when  it  strikes  the  bot- 
tom, it  has  great  power  to  loosen  up  and  bear  away  any 
strata  not  indurated  on  which  it  impinges. 

If  the  effect  that  is  produced  was  confined  to  the  direct 
action  of  the  stream  in  such  cases,  the  result  would  be  a 
very  deep  but  very  narrow  ravine,  with  steep  and  even 
almost  perpendicular  sides;  but  these  sides,  as  they  are 
undermined  by  the  rill  below,  cave  in  by  their  own  weight, 
aided  very  much  by  the  effect  of  the  frost,  and  by  the  rain 
which  falls  directly  upon  them.  In  this  way  the  gully  is 
gradually  widened,  the  brooklet  at  the  bottom  carrying 
away  the  loosened  sand  and  soil  as  fast  as  it  falls  in.  This 
process  goes  on  until  the  ravine  that  is  formed  has  worked 
its  way  backward  far  enough  to  occupy  all  the  ground 
which  served,  by  its  funnel-like  shape,  as  a  feeder  for  form- 
ing the  rill  in  times  of  rain  to  make  the  excavation.  Then 
the  process  of  enlargement  comes  to  an  end ;  the  sides  of 
the  gully,  after  being  sloped  down  by  the  frost  and  rain 
until  they  come  into  a  condition  of  stability,  become  clothed 
with  grass  and  shrubbery,  and  finally  with  trees.  It  be- 
comes a  deeply  wooded  dell,  and  people  who  find  it  in  their 
walks  wonder  perhaps  how  it  came  there,  since  there  is  no 
brook  or  spring  to  be  found  in  the  bottom  of  it,  and  no 
traces  of  its  having  ever  been  subject  in  any  way  to  the 
action  of  a  running  stream. 

Perhaps  the  most  extraordinary,  or,  at  least,  the  most 
celebrated  ravines  formed  in  this  manner  are  those  seen  on 
the  southern  coast  of  the  Isle  of  Wight,  where  they  are  on 
so  vast  a  scale,  and  are  made  so  picturesque  and  beautiful 
by  the  variety  and  the  cliff-like  precipitancy  of  the  bank, 
and  the  luxuriance  of  the  masses  of  vegetation  by  which 
they  are  clothed,  that  they  are  renowned  throughout  the 
world,  and  are  explored  annually  by  many  thousands  of 
visitors.  They  are  called  there  chines,  which  is  the  ancient 


CHINES   IN   THE   ISLE    OF   WIGHT.  109 

name  in  that  locality  for  that  particular  kind  of  ravine. 
The  land  along  the  shore  is  formed  by  strata  of  very  com- 
pact but  loam-like  earth,  which  water  falling  from  a  height 
can  slowly  wear  away,  but  which  has  little  tendency  to 
cave  in ;  and  as  in  that  climate  there  are  no  heavy  frosts, 
the  ravines  which  have  been  made  by  the  rivulets  coming 
down  from  the  chalk  hills  behind,  though  they  have  be- 
come, in  the  course  of  past  ages,  immensely  large  and  deep, 
now  advance  so  slowly  that,  from  one  generation  to  an- 
other, they  show  very  little  change.  The  most  beautiful 
of  these  ravines  is  called  Shanklin  Chine.  The  largest  and 
most  grand  is  the  one  known  as  Black  Gang  Chine ;  but 
there  are  many  others. 

The  strata  of  loam -like  earth  above  referred  to  are 
formed,  along  the  southern  coast  of  the  Isle  of  Wight,  in 
great  thickness,  and  the  sea  has  been  for  ages  wearing 
away  the  portion  of  them  exposed  to  its  action;  they  are 
now  terminated  in  many  places  in  that  direction  by  a  range 
of  lofty  cliffs  of  a  very  picturesque  character. 

There  is  another  remarkable  geblogical  phenomenon  ob- 
servable in  this  place,  and  that  is  the  gradual  and  some- 
times rapid  subsidence  of  immense  masses  of  this  loam-like 
formation.  The  sea,  which  gradually  undermines  and  wears 
away  the  outer  portions,  does  not  seem  to  have  the  effect 
exclusively  of  simply  detaching  and  causing  to  fall  por- 
tions of  the  cliffs  which  overhang  it,  but  the  whole  forma- 
tion sinks  together,  in  immense  masses,  very  slowly,  some- 
times opening  great  crevices  in  the  ground  back  at  a  con- 
siderable distance  from  the  sea.  The  evidence  of  these 
movements  appear  more  clearly  sometimes  in  one  place  and 
sometimes  in  another,  and  they  have  been  now,  for  some 
centuries,  so  slow  as  not  to  disturb  the  inhabitants  in  their 
occupation  of  the  ground.  There  was,  however,  some  years 
ago,  an  immense  subsidence,  in  which  a  tract  of  nearly  a 


110  RAVINES. 

hundred  acres  sank  down  together,  and  now  lies  all  in 
ruins,  though  the  ruins  are  covered  with  a  luxuriant  vege- 
tation. 

Quite  a  singular  effect  produced  by  the  formation  of 
ravines  by  the  rain  is  shown  in  the  opposite  engraving, 
representing  the  bank  of  one  of  the  rivers  in  Montana.  The 
original  bank  of  the  river  consisted  of  a  range  of  cliffs. 
Such  cliffs  are  often  produced  by  the  action  of  a  stream 
when  the  rocks  which  border  it  have  a  columnar  structure, 
which  tend  always,  in  the  process  of  disintegration,  to  form 
perpendicular  walls  with  a  sloping  bank  of  earth  and  gravel 
at  the  foot  of  them,  as  is  shown  very  strikingly  in  the  case 
of  the  Palisades,  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  a  short  dis- 
tance above  New  York,  where  the  cliffs  and  the  sloping 
bank  of  debris  beneath  them  border  the  river  on  the  west- 
ern bank  for  several  miles.  Such  a  sloping  bank  is  called 
a  talus,  and  the  rains,  in  the  example  represented  in  the 
engraving,  have  washed  out  deep  ravines  in  the  substance 
of  it.  The  earth  and  gravel  thus  washed  out  have  been 
distributed  somewhat  evenly  along  the  margin  of  the  wa- 
ter, and  have  formed  there  a  tract  of  level  land  on  which 
the  seeds  of  trees  have  taken  root,  and  a  forest  has  grown 
up — the  tract  thus  covered  with  vegetation  being  wide 
enough  to  form  a  habitable  region  for  man,  and  to  afford 
landing-places  and  other  facilities  for  the  navigation  of  the 
river. 

We  have  only  to  say,  in  concluding  this  chapter,  that 
probably  a  vast  number  of  the  green  valleys,  and  wooded 
dells,  and  wild  little  glens  which  we  continually  meet  with 
in  the  woods  and  among  the  fields  have  been  formed  in 
this  way  by  the  long-continued  action  of  temporary  rills 
produced  by  the  rains,  or  by  permanent  brooks  which,  hav- 
ing their  source  in  some  spring  or  swamp,  continue  to  flow 
perennially.  Indeed,  in  a  vast  number  of  cases  where  we 


OfilGIN   OF   GLEXS. 


Ill 


find  a  glen,  we  find  the  brook  which  has  made  it  flowing 
still  along  its  humble  bed  at  the  bottom  of  it.  At  first 
thought  the  excavation  seems  vastly  too  great  for  so  small 
a  flow  to  have  produced.  We  are  compelled  to  presume 
either  that  the  brook  must  have  been  at  some  former  pe- 
riod immensely  larger  than  at  present,  so  as  to  have  been 
endued  with  a  very  much  greater  excavating  power,  or 
else,  if  we  confine  it  to  its  existing  capabilities,  to  allow  it 
an  immensely  long  period  of  time  for  accomplishing  the 
work.  The  geologists  of  the  present  day  are  generally  in- 
clined to  believe  that  the  explanation  of  the  result  which 
'we  see  attained  is,  in  most  cases,  in  the  length  of  time 


112  RAVINES. 

during  which  the  work  has  been  going  on,  and  not  in  any 
former  excess  of  power  over  that  of  the  present  day  in  the 
agency  which  has  performed  it. 

There  are,  however,  other  agencies  which  are  supposed 
to  have  been  concerned  in  the  excavation  of  many  valleys 
besides  the  action  of  running  water,  as  will  be  explained 
more  fully  by-and-by. 

"We  see  thus,  by  what  has  been  brought  to  view  in  this 
chapter,  that,  in  accounting  for  the  supplies  of  materials 
which  rivers  receive  to  furnish  them  with  the  materials  for 
their  work,  the  rain,  by  its  various  modes  of  action,  aids  in 
furnishing  them.  From  the  surface  every  where  it  carries, 
in  millions  of  streamlets  and  rills,  every  thing  that  is  loose 
and  movable  ;  and  wherever,  by  any  accident,  it  can  break 
through  the  upper  protecting  surface  of  the  ground,  it  has 
the  power  of  digging  and  undermining  it  to  a  vast  extent, 
so  as  to  produce,  in  time,  valleys  which,  both  in  length  and 
width,  are  of  surprising  magnitude  in  comparison  with  the 
apparent  power  of  the  agency  that  produces  them,  as  we 
are  apt  to  judge  of  it  irom  our  very  brief  and  imperfect 
observation.  But  work  accomplished  is  in  the  compound 
ratio  of  power  and  time;  and  so,  when  the  power  is  small, 
if  the  time  during  which  it  is  exercised  is  long,  a  great  re- 
sult will  be  obtained.  One  day,  when  Lawrence  and  John 
were  walking  together  in  the  woods,  they  came  to  one  of 
the  valleys  of  the  kind  which  Lawrence  supposed  to  have 
been  excavated  by  the  brook  which  was  flowing  along  the 
bottom  of  it.  The  valley  was  wide,  and,  as  it  was  in  the 
midst  of  the  forest,  it  was  filled  with  a  dense  growth  of 
immense  trees,  while  the  brook,  a  modest  little  streamlet, 
was  gurgling  along  among  the  moss-covered  stones  at  the 
bottom  in  the  most  gentle  and  unpretending  manner  pos- 
sible. John  was  very  reluctant  to  believe  that  such  a  lit- 


LONG   TIME    ELAPSED.  113 

tie  brook  could  have  made  such  a  wide  and  deep  valley. 
"It  must  have  been  an  immensely  long  while  about  it," 
he  said ;  "  and  to  have  done  it  in  time  for  all  these  big 
trees  to  grow  !" 

"  Well,"  replied  Lawrence,  "  there  has  been  an  immensely 
long  while  in  the  past  eternity." 

It  is  by  the  action  of  rain  in  these  and  other  ways  that 
the  rivers  obtain  a  large  part  of  the  material  which  they 
require  for  filling  up  the  ponds  and  lakes  that  come  in  their 
way,  and  for  the  repair  of  the  waste  and  drainage  which 
they  themselves  are  constantly  making  in  the  intervales 
and  meadows  which  they  pass  through  in  winding  their 
way  to  the  sea. 


114  THE   PLUVIAMETEE. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE    PLTTVI AMETER. 

THE  instrument  by  which  the  quantity  of  rain  which 
falls  is  measured  is  called  the  pluviameter — the  vfordplu- 
via  meaning  rain.  The  quantity  is  expressed  in  inches, 
meaning  the  number  of  inches  or  parts  of  inches  in  depth 
to  which  the  water  falling  would  cover  the  ground  if  none 
of  it  was  absorbbed  or  allowed  to  flow  away. 

Lawrence  had  told  John  one  day,  when  John  said  he 
wished  he  had  a  pluviameter,  that  any  kind  of  glass  vessel 
in  which  he  could  catch  the  rain  would  answer  for  show- 
ing the  nature  and  use  of  the  instrument,  and  it  would, 
moreover,  give  results  that  would  be  sufficiently  accurate 
for  his  purposes.  So  John  looked  over  the  china  closets 
in  the  house,  and,  after  examining  the  glass  mugs  and 
tumblers  which  he  found  there,  he  selected  two  or  three 
which  he  intended  to  show  to  Lawrence  the  next  time  he 
came,  and  to  ask  him  which  would  be  best.  Before  long 
Lawrence  came,  but  it  so  happened  that  when  he  came  he 
found  that  Miss  Random  was  there,  having  come  to  make 
a  call  upon  John's  mother.  John's  mother  was  not  at 
home  at  the  time,  having  gone  out  for  a  short  drive ;  but, 
as  she  was  expected  back  very  soon,  Miss  Random  had 
gone  into  the  parlor,  and  was  waiting  for  her. 

Lawrence,  when  on  his  arrival  he  learned  that  Miss  Ran- 
dom was  in  the  parlor,  determined  at  once  to  go  in  and 
join  her,  and  while  he  was  there,  talking  with  her  on  va- 
rious subjects  not  at  all  connected  with  science,  John  came 
in,  bringing  one  of  his  tumblers. 


SELECTION   OP  A   GLASS.  115 

Lawrence  paused  from  his  conversation  with  Miss  Ran- 
dom for  a  moment  to  look  at  the  tumbler.  He  said  that  it 
would  answer  pretty  well,  but  that  the  bottom  was  not 
flat.  "  It  would  be  better,"  he  said, "  to  find  one,  if  possi- 
ble, which  had  a  perfectly  flat  bottom." 

So  John  took  the  tumbler  and  went  out  again.  Pres- 
ently he  returned  with  another.  Lawrence  examined  this, 
and  said  that  the  sides  were  not  perpendicular,  and  this, 
as  it  made  the  tumbler  larger  above  than  below,  would 
prevent  any  correct  measurement. 

"  "Well,"  said  Miss  Random,  coming  to  look  at  the  tum- 
bler, "  I  think  it  is  all  the  better  for  that.  It  looks  much 
prettier." 

"  I  think  myself  it  is  prettier,"  said  Lawrence,  "  but 
whether  it  is  better  or  not  depends  upon  what  the  purpose 
is  that  he  wants  it  for." 

"  I  think  it  is  better  for  any  purpose,"  said  Miss  Random. 
"  It  certainly  is  prettier.  I  have  seen  tumblers  sometimes 
that  are  drawn  in  at  the  top  like  a  barrel,  but  I  don't  like 
that  shape." 

"  Neither  do  I,"  said  Lawrence, "  for  common  use." 

Miss  Random  then  asked  what  use  John  was  going  to 
put  his  tumbler  to,  and  Lawrence  replied  to  measure  the 
rain-fall.  She  was  much  surprised  at  this,  and  asked  how 
he  was  going  to  do  it.  Lawrence  explained  that  if  he 
could  find  a  vessel  of  any  kind  with  a  flat  bottom,  and  of 
the  same  size  from  the  bottom  to  the  top,  he  would  put  it 
out  whenever  it  began  to  rain,  and  observe  how  much  fell 
into  it.  Then,  supposing  that  the  same  quantity  fell  all 
over  the  ground,  he  would  know  just  how  much  the  ground 
received  during  that  shower  or  storm. 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Random, "  and  what  good  would  he 
gain  by  that  ?" 

"It  is  not  any  special  good  that  will  come  from  the  ob- 


116  TUB   PLUVIAMETEE. 

serration ,"  said  Lawrence,  "  but  only  the  pleasure  of  mak- 
ing it  that  he  is  after." 

Presently  John,  who  had,  in  the  mean  time,  gone  out, 
came  back  with  a  glass  bottle  in  his  hand,  which,  he  said, 
was  the  only  thing  that  he  could  find  that  had  a  flat  bot- 
tom and  straight  sides.  It  was  a  nice  bottle — or,  rather, 
it  had  been  a  nice  one  —  for  it  was  made  of  very  clear 
white  glass,  and  was  very  regular  and  symmetrical  in 
form.  It  had  once  had  a  ground  glass  stopper,  but  the 
stopper  had  been  lost,  and  there  was  a  little  crack  in  the 
glass  in  the  neck,  where  the  stopper  had  gone  in. 

The  truth  was,  the  stopper  had  got  fixed,  so  that  it 
would  not  come  out,  and  the  girl  in  the  kitchen,  not  know- 
ing the  proper  way  of  loosening  tight  stoppers,  had  broken 
the  stopper  itself,  and  also  cracked  the  glass  of  the  neck 
in  attempting  to  get  it  out. 

"  The  bottom  and  sides  are  all  right,"  said  John, "  but, 
being  a  bottle  with  a  narrow  neck,  the  rain  could  not  get 
in — at  any  rate,  not  much  of  it." 

"  We  might,  perhaps,  put  a  funnel  in  to  catch  the  rain," 
said  Lawrence,  after  looking  at  the  bottle, "  provided  we 
could  get  a  funnel  which  should  be  just  as  large  round  at 
the  top  as  the  bottle  is  inside." 

"Yes,  that  would  do,"  said  John;  "only  I  don't  like 
that  crack." 

So  saying,  he  pointed  to  the  little  crack  in  the  neck  of 
the  bottle. 

"We  might  cut  the  bottle  off  just  below  the  shoulder," 
said  Lawrence.  "  That  crack  would  then  be  just  the  thing 
for  us  to  start  with." 

What  Lawrence  meant  by  saying  that  the  crack  would 
be  just  the  thing  to  start  with  was  this :  A  crack  once 
started  in  a  piece  of  glass  will  follow  a  hot  iron  drawn 
along  slowly  before  it ;  and  thus  a  phial,  or  a  tube,  or  a 


IABOBATOBY.  117 

plate  of  glass  can  be  cut,  or  rather  broken  at  pleasure. 
For  flat  glass  a  diamond  is  much  better;  but  for  tubes 
and  vessels  which  have  curved  surfaces,  upon  which  a  dia- 
mond can  not  be  easily  used,  this  mode  is  often  very  con- 
venient to  employ.  The  great  difficulty  in  such  cases  is 
in  starting  a  crack  to  begin  the  operation  with.  But  in 
this  case,  as  Lawrence  saw  that  the  crack  was  already 
started,  he  knew  that  all  which  he  should  have  to  do  would 
be  to  heat  his  iron,  and  lead  the  fissure  already  commenced 
down  over  the  shoulder  of  the  phial  to  the  place  where  he 
wished  to  cut  it  off,  and  then  to  lead  it  around  in  as  true  a 
circle  as  he  could  make  ;  then  afterward  the  edge  could 
be  smoothed  by  grinding  it  carefully  upon  the  grindstone. 
Lawrence  said  that  he  would  do  this  for  John,  if  John 
would  bring  the  bottle  some  day  to  his  laboratory. 

He  had  already  appropriated  a  back  building  at  the 
house  where  he  lived  as  a  place  of  deposit  for  his  instru- 
ments and  apparatus,  and  for  the  making  of  observations 
and  experiments.  He  had  also  a  shop  in  a  room  adjoining. 

Miss  Random  began  by  this  time  to  feel  some  interest 
in  the  subject,  and  she  said  that  she  should  like  very  much 
to  see  him  cut  off  the  bottle.  So  Lawrence  appointed  a 
time  when  she  and  John,  and  also  Miss  Random's  little 
sister  Jane,  could  be  present ;  for  Miss  Random  said  she 
was  sure  her  sister  would  like  to  see  the  operation  too,  and 
so  asked  leave  to  bring  her  with  her. 

"  I  shall  like  to  see  how  you  will  cut  off  the  top  of  the 
bottle  myself,"  said  Miss  Random,  "  but  I  don't  see  what 
pleasure  there  can  be  in  catching  the  rain  in  it  after  it  is 
done." 

"  There  would  not  be  much  pleasure  in  it  for  some  peo- 
ple," said  Lawrence.  "  Different  people  find  pleasure  in 
different  ways.  In  case  of  a  shower  coming  up  in  a  dry 
time  to  water  the  garden,  John  would  take  an  interest  in 


118  THE   PLUVIAMETEE. 

setting  his  pluviameter  and  ascertaining  how  much  water 
falls.  You,  I  suppose,  would  think  only  of  the  flowers  be- 
ing refreshed,  and  so  made  to  bloom  more  fully.  In  the 
same  manner,  in  looking  at  the  flowers,  I  should  be  more 
interested  in  observing  to  what  classes  the  plants  belong, 
and  thinking  of  the  parts  of  the  world  where  they  origi- 
nated, and  what  their  properties  and  peculiarities  are  in  a 
scientific  point  of  view.  You  would  be  more  interested,  I 
suppose,  in  the  colors  and  forms,  and  in  observing  how 
they  would  best  go  together  in  a  bouquet,  and  perhaps  in 
their  imaginary  language.  So  that,  you  see,  the  same  ob- 
jects awaken  different  ideas  and  associations  in  different 
minds,  and  thus  afford  pleasure  in  very  different  ways. 
The  main  thing  is  for  each  one  to  obtain  pleasure  from 
them  in  the  way  best  suited  to  his  taste  or  inclination." 

"  And  still,"  said  Miss  Random,  after  musing  a  moment, 
"it  must  be  rather  curious  to  know  exactly  how  much 
water  falls  in  a  shower  over  the  whole  ground.  I  suppose 
it  does  not  make  any  difference  where  you  place  the  pluvi- 
ameter. The  amount  that  falls  is  just  the  same  every 
where  in  the  same  rain." 

"  No,"  said  Lawrence,  "  it  varies  very  much.  The 
showers  are  like  the  clouds  which  they  come  from.  Some- 
times the  same  rain-cloud  spreads  over  a  great  extent  of 
country,  and  the  rain  falls  pretty  uniformly  over  very  con- 
siderable areas.  But  even  then  the  rain  diminishes  grad- 
ually at  the  outer  portions  of  the  cloud,  and  ends  perhaps 
in  a  mere  mist  at  the  borders  of  it.  Then,  at  other  times, 
as  in  the  case  of  thunder-showers,  the  clouds  are  very  lim- 
ited in  extent,  and  their  boundaries  are  very  sharply  de- 
fined, so  that  sometimes  even  one  half  of  a  garden  gets 
much  better  watered  than  the  other  half.  The  rainfall 
is  much  heavier  usually  upon  and  near  mountains,  for  the 
mountains  operate  as  condensers.  I  have  even  seen  it 


SIGNAL  SERVICE  OFFICE.  119 

stated  that  a  difference  has  been  observed  on  different  sides 
of  the  same  house,  even  in  what  seemed  to  be  a  steadf 
rain." 

"  Then  you  can't  tell  exactly,"  said  Miss  Random,  "  aiV 
er  all." 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  the  return  of 
John's  mother  from  her  ride. 

The  plan  proposed  by  Lawrence  for  making  a  pluviam- 
eter  for  John  was  likely  to  be  successful  in  producing  an 
instrument  abundantly  sufficient  for  his  purposes ;  but  for 
the  systematic  observations  made  by  scientific  men  much 
more  exact  measurements  are  necessary,  and  they  require 
more  carefully  made  and  more  complicated  instruments. 
There  is  an  office  of  the  government  at  Washington,  called 
the  Signal  Service  Office,  where  very  careful  observations 
are  made,  with  the  most  nicely  constructed  instruments, 
and  where  reports  are  received  from  other  offices  all  over 
the  country.  The  following  engraving  gives  a  view  of 
one  of  the  rooms  in  this  office,  with  some  of  the  instru- 
ments that  are  employed. 

It  is  at  this  office  that  the  daily  reports  are  made  of  the 
state  of  the  weather  for  each  day,  and  the  probabilities  for 
the  following  day,  which  are  telegraphed  all  over  the  coun' 
try,  and  published  in  the  morning  papers.  The  instru- 
ments  by  which  the  observations  are  made  are  placed 
chiefly  upon  the  roof  of  the  building,  and  the  results  are 
communicated  by  means  of  curious  mechanical  contriv- 
ances to  the  rooms  below,  where  they  record  themselves 
by  means  of  still  more  curious  contrivances. 

The  pluviameter,  or  rain-gauge  used  in  such  establish^ 
ments  as  these,  has  a  funnel  rising  above  the  roof  to  catch 
the  falling  rain,  and  from  this  funnel  the  water  descends 
by  a  tube  to  the  observing  room  below,  where  it  is  re- 


120 


THE   PLUVIAMETER. 


THE  SIGNAL  SERVICE   OFFICE  AT  WASHINGTON. 

ceived  in  a  glass  vessel  which  is  suspended  by  a  spring, 
and  descends  slowly  as  it  becomes  filled.  There  is  a  pen- 
cil attached  to  this  receiver,  and  moves  down  with  it,  and 
marks  the  descent  upon  a  paper  moved  by  clock-work  near 
so  as  to  make  a  record  of  the  quantity  of  rain  which  falls. 
This  is  effected  by  a  system  of  very  curious  mechanism, 
though  the  details  of  it  can  not  be  here  particularly  de- 
scribed. 


CUTTING   GLASS.  121 


CHAPTER  XII 

MINUTE    PHILOSOPHY. 

AT  the  appointed  time  Miss  Dorrie  and  her  sister  Jennie 
came  to  Lawrence's  laboratory  to  witness  the  operation  of 
cutting  off  the  top  of  the  bottle.  John  was  already  there. 
Lawrence  had  a  small  furnace  which  he  employed  for  such 
purposes,  similar  to  that  which  tinmen  use  for  heating 
their  soldering  irons.  In  this  he  heated  one  end  of  a  stout 
piece  of  iron  which  he  had  selected  for  the  purpose  from  a 
box  of  old  iron  under  the  bench.  The  end  was  somewhat 
pointed,  and  when  it  was  red  hot  Lawrence  laid  the  iron 
upon  the  bench  with  the  hot  end  projecting  over  the  edge 
of  it,  and  with  something  heavy  on  the  other  portion  to 
keep  it  steady.  Then,  by  holding  the  glass  in  the  proper 
manner  in  contact  with  the  red-hot  part  of  the  iron,  and 
moving  it  slowly  along  just  in  front  of  the  crack,  he  made 
the  crack  follow  it  where  he  wished  it  to  go. 

After  bringing  the  crack  down  in  this  way  beyond  the 
shoulder  of  the  bottle,  he  turned  and  went  entirely  around 
it,  or  rather  almost  entirely  around  it,  for,  through  the  in- 
fluence of  some  mysterious  agency  not  well  understood, 
the  crack  in  such  cases  can  not  generally  be  made  to  re- 
turn quite  into  itself  so  as  fully  to  finish  the  work. 

It  came  so  near,  however,  that  the  portion  of  the  bottle 
separated  from  the  rest  by  the  crack  came  off  by  a  very 
gentle  pull.  It  now  remained  to  smooth  and  finish  the 
edge  of  the  glass  by  means  of  a  large  grindstone  which 
stood  in  one  corner  of  Lawrence's  shop,  and  also  to  mark 
F 


122  MINUTE    PHILOSOPHY. 

the  inches  on  one  side  of  the  glass  by  means  of  a  diamond, 
and  John's  pluviameter  was  substantially  finished. 

It  would,  however,  after  all,  have  been  considered  by  me- 
teorologists as  rather  a  rude  sort  of  pluviameter,  as  it  was 
graduated,  that  is,  marked  to  divisions  on  the  side  of  the 
glass  only  to  inches,  whereas  the  meteorologist  wishes 
sometimes  to  be  a  great  deal  more  exact  than  that.  Law- 
rence finally  concluded  to  mark  in  the  half  and  quarter 
inch  divisions  with  his  diamond.  While  he  was  doing  this 
he  explained  the  plan  which  was  adopted  in  regular  ob- 
servatories for  obtaining  much  more  accurate  results.  This 
plan  consisted  in  having  the  pluviameter  consist  of  two 
portions,  a  larger  one  above,  to  receive  the  rain  from  a  con- 
siderable surface,  and  a  long  and  narrow  tube  below,  to  re- 
ceive and  measure  the  quantity  with  greater  precision,  as 
is  explained  at  length  at  the  close  of  the  last  chapter. 

These  explanations  on  the  part  of  Lawrence  in  respect 
to  the  construction  of  the  pluviameter  led  the  conversation 
to  the  general  subject  of  exactness.  Lawrence  said  that 
perfect  exactness  was  of  course  impossible.  Miss  Random 
was  surprised  at  this,  but  Lawrence  said  it  was  really  so. 

"  The  simplest  thing,"  he  said, "  can  not  be  done  exactly. 
"We  can  not  even  determine  the  length  of  a  room  exactly." 

"  I  could  do  it,"  said  Miss  Random,  "  I  am  sure,  if  I  had 
a  measure." 

"  If  you  were  to  try,"  said  Lawrence,  "  you  would  find 
it  impossible.  You  could  not  measure  it  twice,  and  come, 
even  apparently,  to  the  same  result  each  time.  A  boy 
once  in  this  shop,  while  I  was  at  work  here,  said  that  he 
could  do  this,  and  I  asked  him  to  try.  He  took  the  two- 
foot  rule  and  measured  along  the  floor,  and  when  he  reach- 
ed the  end  of  the  room,  he  said  it  was  thirteen  feet  and  a 
little  more.  I  told  him  that  was  not  exact,  for  I  wished 
to  know  how  much  more.  Then  he  said  he  would  measure 


NEAR   ENOUGH.  123 

again,  and  he  did  so,  and  told  me  it  was  thirteen  feet  and 
just  about  two  inches.  I  told  him  that  "just  about" 
would  not  do ;  he  was  to  do  it  exactly ;  and  that  if  he  was 
to  measure  it  again,  and  find  out  how  many  tenths  of  an 
inch  it  overrun  or  fell  short,  he  would  then  only  get  it 
within  a  tenth  of  an  inch,  and  that  would  not  be  exact,  for 
there  would  be  after  that  the  hundredths  of  an  inch,  and 
after  that  the  thousandths  of  an  inch,  and  so  on  forever;  so 
that  even  if  he  had  mathematically  precise  points  to  meas- 
ure from  and  to  measure  to,  and  if  his  method  of  measuring 
was  mathematically  exact,  the  really  exact  determination 
of  the  distance,  in  the  philosophical  sense,  would  be  im- 
possible. When  we  say  a  thing  is  exact,  we  mean  near 
enough  to  exactness  to  answer  the  purpose  intended.  The- 
oretical, or  absolute  exactness,  in  any  dealings  with  mate- 
rial things,  is  impossible." 

"  Getting  within  a  tenth  of  an  inch  is  near  enough  for 
any  thing,"  said  Miss  Random. 

"Yes,  one  would  think  so,"  replied  Lawrence.  "And 
yet,  in  some  operations,  it  is  not  uncommon  to  have  to  deal 
with  magnitudes,  or  differences  of  magnitude,  not  more 
than  the  hundredth,  or  even  the  thousandth  of  an  inch." 

Miss  Dorrie  seemed  much  surprised  at  this,  and  said 
that  we  could  not  even  see  any  thing  so  small  as  that. 
Lawrence  replied  that  that  was  true,  but  that  in  many  op- 
erations men  had  to  deal  with  magnitudes  altogether  too 
minute  to  be  distinguished  by  the  eye. 

"  In  making  a  watch,  for  instance,"  he  said, "  or  in  fitting 
together  some  of  the  nice  parts  of  a  sewing-machine,  a  dif- 
ference of  a  hundredth,  or  even  of  a  thousandth  of  an  inch, 
for  aught  I  know,  may  make  the  difference  between  work- 
ing smoothly  and  well,  or  going  hard  and  working  badly. 
The  workman,  in  fitting  the  parts  together,  and  turning 
them  gently  with  his  hand,  judges  by  the  feeling,  and  not 


124  MINUTE    PHILOSOPHY. 

by  sight,  of  such  minute  differences.  But  he  is  obliged  to 
take  cognizance  of  them  in  some  way  in  order  to  turn  out 
nice  work. 

"  And  then,  besides,"  continued  Lawrence,  "  sometimes, 
when  a  nice  piece  of  mechanism  gets  out  of  order,  it  may 
possibly  be  owing  to  a  screw  being  turned  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  too  tight,  making  a  difference  of  a  hundredth  or  a 
thousandth  of  an  inch  in  the  pressure ;  or  a  particle  of 
dust  of  that  magnitude  may  have  got  in  somewhere.  It 
does  not  work  well,  and  the  operator  can  not  see  why." 

"  Yes,"  said  Dorrie ;  "  when  my  mother's  machine  acts 
so,  I  always  think  it  is  bewitched." 

"  I  don't  think  there  is  any  witch  concerned  in  making 
the  mischief,"  said  Lawrence.  "  There  is  some  mechanical 
difficulty,  and  the  reason  why  we  can  not  discover  it  is,  in 
certain  cases,  at  least,  because  it  is  occasioned  by  some- 
thing too  small  for  us  to  see.  If  it  is  occasioned  by  dust, 
or  any  other  foreign  substance,  or  by  too  great  pressure  in 
some  parts,  owing  to  its  not  having  been  put  together  ex- 
actly right,  sometimes  by  taking  it  apart,  and  then,  after 
cleaning  and  oiling  it,  putting  it  together  again,  the  diffi- 
culty may  be  removed  by  the  operator  without  his  ever 
discovering  what  it  was. 

"And  then,"  continued  Lawrence,  "  to  take  another  case : 
In  getting  out  a  glass  stopper  from  a  bottle  when  it  has 
become  fixed,  we  deal  directly  with  a  magnitude  altogeth- 
er too  minute  to  be  perceptible  to  the  senses  in  any  way. 
We  first  put  a  drop  of  oil  into  the  crevice  between  the 
stopper  and  the  neck  of  the  bottle.  The  oil  is  gradually 
drawn  in  between  the  two  surfaces  by  the  capillary  force, 
which  is  enormously  strong,  though  it  acts  only  at  almost 
infinitely  minute  distances.  After  allowing  the  oil  time  to 
insinuate  itself  as  far  as  it  will,  we  then  dip  the  neck  of  the 
bottle,  stopper  and  all,  into  cold  water,  and  hold  it  there 


EXTRACTING   A   STOPPER.  125 

until  the  glass  has  been  cooled,  and  has  shrunk  as  much 
as  possible.  You  know,  I  suppose,  that  glass  shrinks  in 
cooling?" 

Miss  Random  said  that  she  had  never  thought  of  it  par- 
ticularly. 

Lawrence  said  that  it  did  so  shrink,  and  that,  though  in 
ordinary  cases  the  shrinkage  is  too  small  to  be  perceived 
by  the  eye,  there  were  various  ways  of  proving  it,  and 
even  of  determining  the  precise  rate  at  which  different 
substances  do  shrink  and  swell  under  the  influence  of  heat 
and  cold. 

"  After  the  whole  neck  of  the  bottle,  stopper  and  all, 
have  been  shrunk  as  much  as  possible  by  that  degree  of 
cold,"  said  Lawrence,  "  the  next  thing  is  to  swell  the  neck 
of  the  bottle,  outside  of  the  stopper,  by  heating  it,  while 
the  stopper  itself  remains  cool,  so  as  to  loosen  the  neck 
from  the  stopper,  which  still  continues  shrunken.  Now 
both  the  shrinking  and  the  swelling  are  altogether  too  mi- 
nute in  quantity  to  be  perceived  by  the  closest  examina- 
tion ;  but  they  are  enough,  when  one  is  shrunk  and  the 
other  is  swollen,  to  make  a  slight  relaxation  of  the  tenacity 
with  whicli  the  two  surfaces  hold  to  each  other.  This  re- 
laxation is  sufficient  sometimes — when  the  operation  is  so 
nicely  and  successfully  performed  that  the  neck  of  the  bot- 
tle receives  its  full  expansion  while  the  stopper  remains 
cold,  and  the  attempt  to  remove  it  is  made  just  at  the 
right  instant — to  allovf  the  stopper  to  be  withdrawn  at 
once.  And  if  it  can  not  be  so  withdrawn,  a  little  gentle 
rapping  upon  it  with  a  key  or  some  other  metallic  sub- 
stance, to  serve  as  a  light  hammer,  will  serve  to  loosen  and 
liberate  it." 

John  and  little  Jane  listened  for  a  time  to  Lawrence 
while  he  was  making  these  explanations  to  Miss  Random, 
but  they  soon  became  tired,  or  rather  Jennie  did  ;  and,  be- 


126  MINUTE    PHILOSOPHY. 

sides,  Jane's  attention  was  attracted  to  a  kitten  that  just 
then  came  peeping  in  at  the  shop  door.  The  kitten's  name, 
it  seems,  was  Waggle.  It  was  a  very  pretty  kitten,  and  a 
very  playful  one,  John  said,  only  she  was  very  much  afraid 
of  strangers.  John,  however,  contrived  to  catch  her. 

"If  she  gets  away,"  said  John,  "she'll  run  off  into  her 
house,  and  we  can't  get  her  again." 

Waggle's  house,  as  John  called  it,  was  under  a  platform 
which  extended  along  one  side  of  the  shed  and  across  the 
two  ends.  The  rest  of  the  shed  was  filled  with  wood.  The 
platform  was  raised  about  two  feet  from  the  ground,  so 
that  there  was  space  enough  for  a  boy  to  crawl  under  it. 
This  space,  however,  was  divided  by  the  posts,  which  were 
placed  here  and  there  to  support  the  platform,  into  several 
portions.  John  and  Oscar,  his  cousin,  Lawrence's  little 
brother,  who  was  not  now  at  home,  used  to  crawl  under 
this  platform  through  an  opening  near  one  end,  though 
John  was  now  growing  too  large  to  do  this  comfortably. 
They  had,  however,  sometime  before  arranged  this  space 
for  a  house  for  the  kitten,  dividing  it,  as  they  said,  into 
different  rooms.  One  portion  they  set  apart  for  a  bed- 
room, and  they  made  a  bed  there  in  a  corner.  Another 
was  a  parlor.  The  floor  of  the  parlor  they  carpeted  with 
a  remnant  of  old  matting.  Another  place  was  the  dining- 
room,  where  there  was  an  opening  through  which  the  boys 
could  put  any  thing  they  wished  to  give  the  kitten  to  eat. 

John  and  Jane,  with  the  kitten  in  their  arms,  came  to 
the  place  where  Lawrence  and  Miss  Random  were  talking 
while  Lawrence  was  at  work  finishing  the  pluviameter. 
Miss  Random  turned  to  look  at  the  kitten,  and  while  they 
were  talking  about  her  she  became  alarmed,  and,  suddenly 
springing  from  Jane's  arms,  she  leaped  to  the  floor  and 
bounded  away. 

"There,"  said  John,  "she's  gone!     She'll  run  into  her 


THE    KITTEX.  127 

house,  aud  we  can't  get  her  again.  She'll  go  in  at  the  back 
door." 

Miss  Random's  curiosity  was  excited  at  hearing  of  the 
kitten's  having  a  house  and  a  back  door,  and  saying  "Let's 
go  and  see,"  she  followed  the  children  as  they  ran  after  the 
kitten.  Lawrence  laid  down  his  work  and  followed  too. 

The  kitten  disappeared  through  a  hole  in  the  boarding 
under  the  platform.  Jane  looked  in,  but  could  not  see  her. 

"  She's  gone  to  her  bedroom,  and  has  got  into  her  bed. 
That's  what  she  always  does  when  she  is  frightened.  I'll 
show  you  where  it  is." 

So  John  led  the  way,  followed  by  all  the  others,  to  the 
place  in  the  platform,  which  here  formed  a  narrow  passage- 
way between  the  side  of  the  shed  and  the  wood-pile  within. 

"  There  !"  said  he ;  "  she's  right  under  here.  Her  bed- 
stead is  a  box.  The  bed  is  made  of  sawdust,  nice  and  clean, 
and  with  a  piece  of  carpet  to  cover  it.  We  gave  here  an- 
other piece  of  carpet  for  a  blanket,  but  I  don't  know  wheth- 
er she  uses  it  or  not.  She  always  runs  right  to  her  bed 
when  she  is  frightened,  and  so  I  have  no  doubt  she  is  here. 
All  be  still  and  listen,  and  you'll  hear  her  mew." 

So  they  were  all  still,  and  John,  putting  his  mouth  down 
near  a  crevice,  began  to  call  kitty-kitty-kitty  rapidly,  as  if 
it  was  all  one  word.  Then,  listening,  they  all  heard  a  faint 
mewing  under  the  platform. 

Jane  seemed  astonished,  and  began  capering  about  the 
platform  with  delight.  Even  Miss  Random  looked  pleased. 

"  I  can  make  her  come  to  any  part  of  her  house  I  please," 
said  John ;  "  only  she  won't  come  out  and  let  me  catch 
her.  You  all  wait  here  a  moment." 

So  saying,  John  ran  off  into  the  house.  In  a  few  minutes 
he  returned  with  two  or  three  very  small  pieces  of  meat 
on  a  plate,  and  a  needle  and  thread.  He  asked  Jennie  to 
hold  the  plate,  and  then,  taking  a  piece  of  the  meat,  he 


128  MINUTE    PHILOSOPHY. 

pierced  it  in  the  centre  with  the  needle,  and  drew  the 
needle  till  the  end  of  the  thread  was  just  ready  to  come 
through.  So  the  thread  held  the  meat;  but,  as  there  was 
no  knot  at  the  end  of  it,  the  meat  could  be  very  easily 
pulled  off. 

He  then  led  the  whole  party  along  the  platform  till  he 
came,  after  turning  a  corner,  to  a  broader  place  in  it. 

"  There  !"  said  he ;  "  her  parlor  is  right  under  here.  I 
can  call  her  into  it." 

There  was  a  little  opening  made  by  a  notch  in  the  end 
of  one  of  the  planks  of  the  platform  here.  John  said  it 
was  a  window. 

He  held  his  mouth  pretty  near  the  window,  and  called 
the  kitten  as  before.  Then  he  listened. 

"  Hark !"  said  he  ;  "I  hear  her  coming.  Now  I'll  let  this 
piece  of  meat  down,  and  you'll  see  it  will  soon  be  gone. 
She  will  pull  it  off  the  string."  So  he  let  the  piece  of  meat 
down  into  the  hole,  and  pretty  soon  drew  it  up,  and  the 
meat  was  gone. 

Jane  could  hardly  believe  that  it  was  Waggle  that  took 
the  meat.  She  thought  it  must  have  dropped  off  in  some 
way. 

"  I'll  put  another  piece  on,"  said  John,  "  and  let  you 
hold  the  string,  and  you  will  feel  her  pull  it  off." 

So  he  put  on  another  piece  of  meat,  and  let  Jane  hold 
the  string  when  he  had  let  the  meat  down  into  the  hole. 
Presently  Jane,  to  her  great  delight,  felt  the  kitten  nib- 
bling, and  a  few  minutes  afterward,  on  drawing  up  the 
string,  she  found  that  the  meat  was  gone. 

John  wiped  the  needle  clean  upon  a  scrap  of  paper,  and, 
laying  it  carefully  upon  the  plate,  he  set  the  plate  down  in 
a  safe  place,  and  went  to  another  part  of  the  platform, 
where  there  was  a  narrow  crack,  and,  after  calling  several 
times,  the  kitten  came  there  and  peeped  through  the  chink. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  INVESTIGATION.  129 

Jane  could  not  see  Waggle  herself,  but  she  obtained  a 
glimpse  of  her  whiskers,  which  seemed  to  give  her  as  much 
delight  as  if  she  had  seen  her  whole  form. 

Lawrence  and  Miss  Random  then  went  back  into  the 
shop,  leaving  John  and  Jane  to  continue  their  game  of  bo- 
peep  with  the  kitten. 

This  affair  of  the  kitten  was  a  very  fortunate  one  for 
Lawrence  in  his  conversation  with  Miss  Random,  as  it  af- 
forded him  a  very  good  illustration  of  something  that  he 
had  been  saying  to  her. 

"  The  kind  of  pleasure,"  he  said,  "  which  we  take  in 
many  of  our  scientific  experiments  and  observations  is 
very  analogous  to  that  which  Jennie  found  in  following 
the  hidden  kitten.  It  consists,  in  some  degree,  in  watch- 
ing the  action  and  the  changes  in  hidden  forces  and  differ- 
ences of  magnitude  which  are  themselves  wholly  removed 
from  our  view.  We  can  only  see  evidence  of  their  exist- 
ence and  their  action  by  certain  indications  which  it  re- 
quires some  knowledge  and  skill  to  interpret,  and  the  ex- 
ercise of  this  knowledge  and  skill,  in  bringing  to  our  minds 
the  assurance  of  agencies  and  actions  which  are  not  direct- 
ly cognizable  by  our  senses,  gives  us  a  peculiar  and  special 
pleasure,  just  as  Jenny's  feeling  through  the  string  that 
the  kitten  was  nibbling  at  the  other  end  of  it  gave  her  a 
peculiar  kind  of  pleasure,  other,  and  perhaps  greater,  than 
that  which  she  would  have  felt  in  seeing  the  kitten  openly." 

Miss  Random  very  readily  admitted  that  this  was  true. 

"  There  is  something  very  analogous  to  this,"  said  Law- 
rence, "  in  many  of  our  scientific  processes ;  as,  for  exam- 
ple, the  loosening  of  the  stopper  from  the  neck  of  the  bot- 
tle, by  cooling  the  whole  first,  and  then  heating  the  neck 
of  the  bottle,  and  starting  the  stopper  out  as  soon  as  the 
neck  has  been  expanded  by  the  heat,  and  before  the  heat 
has  had  time  to  pass  far  into  the  stopper,  so  as  to  expand 
F2 


130  MINUTE    PHILOSOPHY. 

that.  We  follow,  in  imagination,  the  heat  which  we  apply 
to  the  neck,  either  by  winding  it  with  a  rag  dipped  in 
scalding  water,  or  by  pouring  hot  water  over  it.  We  im- 
agine the  particles  gradually  forced  apart  by  the  heat,  and 
the  neck  swollen,  until  it  is  loosened  a  little  from  the  stop- 
per. We  can  not  see  the  expansion,  nor  the  change  of 
form  which  results  from  it,  any  more  than  Jane  could  see 
the  kitten.  But  we  know  the  effect  takes  place,  and  we 
have,  by-and-by,  visible  evidence  of  the  fact  in  the  loosen- 
ing of  the  stopper.  It  is  so  with  a  great  deal  of  our  exper- 
imenting. It  is,  in  fact,"  he  added,  looking  up  to  Miss 
Random  with  a  smile,  "  a  kind  of  game  of  bo-peep  with 
the  hidden  forces  of  nature,  making  them  come  and  show 
themselves  here  and  there  by  curious  indications,  though 
they  are  naturally  entirely  concealed." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Wollaston,"  said  Miss  Random,  "  you  are  the 
funniest  man !" 

"  I  admit  that  I  am  rather  disrespectful  to  men  of  sci- 
ence," said  Lawrence,  "  in  placing  the  pleasure  of  their 
pursuits  on  a  level  with  that  of  a  child  in  playing  bo-peep 
with  a  kitten." 

In  the  course  of  her  conversation  with  Lawrence,  and  on 
seeing  the  pluviameter  when  it  was  finished,  Miss  Random 
began  to  feel  some  interest  in  the  idea  of  loosening  a  fixed 
stopper  by  the  method  wliich  Lawrence  had  explained, 
and  also  in  that  of  measuring  the  amount  of  the  rain-fall 
in  a  shower ;  and  she  said  that,  as  soon  as  she  got  home, 
she  meant  to  look  for  a  bottle  with  a  stopper  tight  in  it, 
and  see  if  she  could  get  it  out. 

"And  then,"  said  she,  "if  I  get  the  stopper  out,  perhaps 
you  would  be  kind  enough  to  cut  the  top  of  the  bottle  off, 
and  mark  the  inches  on  the  side  of  it,  and  then  I  can  have 
a  little  pluviameter  too." 

Lawrence  said  he  would  do  this  with  great  pleasure. 


FROST    ON   THK    WINDOWS.  131 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

EFFECTS     OF     RAIN. 

THERE  is  a  phenomenon  constantly  occurring  under  our 
immediate  observation  which  illustrates  very  well  the  phil- 
osophical principles  which  are  involved  in  the  formation 
of  rain  and  snow  in  the  atmosphere,  and  that  is  the  dep- 
osition of  frost  or  of  dew  upon  the  windows  of  a  room ; 
though  to  understand  clearly  the  forces  which  are  in  oper- 
ation to  produce  these  results  requires  some  degree  of  that 
watching  of  the  action  of  forces  which  are  themselves  en- 
tirely concealed  from  direct  observation,  which  Lawrence 
compared  to  Jane's  playing  bo-peep  with  the  kitten. 

The  deposition  of  water  in  its  two  forms  upon  the  win- 
dows, and  its  fall  from  the  atmosphere  to  the  ground,  are 
in  this  respect  alike,  namely,  that  both  are  cases  of  con- 
densation of  water  from  the  state  of  an  invisible  vapor, 
and,  in  both  cases,  the  condensation  is  caused  by  the  cool- 
ing of  the  air,  by  which  its  capacity  for  holding  water  in 
the  state  of  an  invisible  vapor  is  diminished. 

If  we  had  the  power  to  "see  the  kitten"  in  this  process, 
and  to  observe  all  its  movements,  instead  of  learning  indi- 
rectly from  the  results  produced  where  she  is  and  what 
she  has  done,  the  operations  in  both  cases  would  appear  to 
be  very  simple.  In  the  case  of  frost  on  the  windows  we 
should  see  a  current  of  warm  air,  with  a  comparatively 
large  quantity  of  water  dissolved  in  it,  flowing  from  the 
upper  portions  of  the  room  toward  the  window.  As  it 
reaches  the  pane,  and  is  exposed  to  the  coldness  of  it,  it  is 
cooled  itself,  and  its  power  of  retaining  the  invisible  vapor 


132  EFFECTS    OF   RAIN. 

is  diminished ;  and  the  excess  is,  by  the  operation  of  some 
mysterious  and  invisible  force,  drawn  to  and  held  by  the 
surface  of  the  pane  itself,  or  of  the  water  previously  de- 
posited, and  is  left  there  in  the  form  of  crystals,  or  of  liquid 
water,  according  to  the  degree  of  cold.  Each  portion  of 
the  air,  as  fast  as  it  delivers  its  surplus  water  and  becomes 
cooled,  sinks  slowly  down  along  the  panes  to  the  window- 
sill,  and  there  it  flows  out  into  the  room  again,  where  it 
again  becomes  warm,  and  again  renews  its  supply  of  in- 
visible vapor,  and  again,  in  time,  flows  over  toward  the 
window,  when  the  process  is  renewed  as  before. 

It  would  be  a  very  curious  spectacle  if  we  could  see  this 
movement  as  it  goes  on,  and  especially  if  we  could  discern 
by  our  senses  the  action  of  the  hidden  forces  by  which  the 
air,  when  cooled,  is  disposed  to  give  up  a  portion  of  its  va- 
por, and  the  cold  surface  of  the  glass  is  able  to  seize  and 
hold  it — especially  if  we  could  see  by  what  process  it  ar- 
ranges the  particles  in  such  a  symmetrical  manner,  when 
it  is  intensely  cold,  so  as  to  produce  such  wonderful  and 
beautiful  forms  of  frost-work.  But  all  such  action  is  en- 
tirely hidden  from  any  direct  observation  by  means  of  such 
senses  as  ours. 

We  can,  however,  by  putting  our  hands  near  the  win- 
dow-sill, often  feel  the  current  of  cold  air  falling  down,  and 
with  the  flame  of  a  lamp  or  candle  we  can  make  manifest 
the  direction  of  these  currents  of  air  in  such  a  case,  both 
above  and  below.  We  can  also  increase  the  frosty  or  dewy 
deposit  by  leaving  overnight  a  quantity  of  open  water  in 
the  room,  to  furnish  the  air  in  its  circulation  with  a  suffi- 
cient supply  of  vapor. 

It  is  in  substantially  the  same  way  as  this  that  rain 
is  produced  in  the  atmosphere,  only  the  invisible  vapor 
which  the  air  contains  is  not  always  condensed  against 
any  flat,  cold  surface  of  a  solid,  but  often  by  cold  portions 


COURSE    OF  THE   WATER.  133 

of  the  air;  and  yet  the  solid  hills  and  mountains  corre- 
spond, in  many  respects  quite  closely,  in  their  action  upon 
the  invisible  vapor,  with  the  cold  panes  of  glass.  They  ex- 
tend into  the  air  to  a  region  where,  for  certain  reasons, 
great  cold  prevails,  and  all  the  warm  air  which  is  brought 
to  them  in  winds,  especially  if  it  has  passed  over  on  its  way 
the  surface  of  moist  ground,  or  rivers,  lakes,  and  seas  in 
the  warm  regions  of  the  earth,  comes  loaded  with  a  great- 
er portion  of  invisible  vapor  than  it  can  hold  when  cooled. 
But  by  contact  with  the  mountains  it  is  cooled,  and  the 
surplus  water  is  deposited  sometimes  upon  the  surface  of 
rocks  and  the  ground  directly,  and  sometimes  the  watery 
substance  gathers  in  little  drops,  or  forms  spangle-like  crys- 
tals in  the  air.  In  either  case  the  water  comes  to  the 
ground  upon  the  summits  and  declivities  of  the  mountains, 
and  streams  down  their  sides  in  a  thousand  rivulets  and 
rills,  which,  in  respect  to  the  agencies  which  produce  them, 
are  exactly  analogous  to  those  which,  when  the  room  with- 
in is  damp  and  the  air  without  is  cold,  cause  the  drops  to 
trickle  down  the  window-pane. 

A  portion  of  the  water  thus  condensed  upon  the  moun- 
tains and  other  elevated  grounds  flows  down  upon  the  sur- 
face in  these  rivulets  and  rills.  Another,  and  sometimes 
much  the  largest  portion,  sinks  into  the  ground,  and  there, 
percolating  through  crevices  and  fissures,  and  through  por- 
ous strata,  as  of  sand,  oozes  out  again  at  lower  levels,  form- 
ing springs.  The  water  of  these  springs  seems  to  come  up 
by  an  ascending  motion  out  of  the  earth.  But  the  real 
force  which  acts  upon  it  is  the  pressure  from  above  of  the 
water  still  slowly  working  its  way  down  through  the  crev- 
ices and  porous  strata,  not  always  from  mountains,  but,  at 
any  rate,  from  higher  land. 

There  is  an  amazing  difference  in  the  quantity  of  rain 
which  falls  in  different  regions  of  the  earth,  as  measured 


134  EFFECTS    OF   BAIN. 

and  recorded  by  the  pluviameters  of  scientific  men.  For 
at  a  great  many  stations  in  different  countries  registers  of 
the  weather  are  kept,  and  the  amount  received  in  the  pluvi- 
ameters each  day  is  measured  and  recorded,  and  thus  the 
whole  quantity  for  the  year  is  ascertained.  The  amount  is 
found  to  be,  in  general,  nearly  the  same  for  each  place,  but 
the  difference  is  enormous  between  different  places.  The 
pluviameter  shows  very  definitely  what  this  difference  is, 
and  corrects  many  erroneous  impressions  which  we  might 
otherwise  receive  from  unscientific  observations. 

England,  for  instance,  has  the  reputation  of  being  a  very 
rainy  country,  but  the  actual  quantity  of  water  which  falls 
there  is  quite  moderate  compared  with  that  of  many  other 
regions.  By  the  pluviameter  kept  at  the  Observatory  at 
Greenwich,  near  London,  where  very  exact  observations 
are  regularly  made  and  recorded  in  respect  to  all  the  phe- 
nomena of  the  weather,  as  well  as  of  the  motions  of  heav- 
enly bodies,  it  appears  that  the  annual  rain-fall  in  the  re- 
gion of  London  is  only  about  twenty-four  inches ;  whereas, 
in  some  parts  of  India,  where  warm  aqueous  vapor,  com- 
ing from  the  Indian  Ocean,  is  condensed  by  the  Himalaya 
Mountains  or  the  Ghauts,  the  quantity  is  more  than  twenty 
times  as  great  as  that.  That  is  to  say,  that  while  the  wa- 
ter falling  in  a  whole  year  in  and  around  London,  if  it  re- 
mained upon  the  ground  without  being  absorbed  or  flow- 
ing away,  would  cover  only  to  about  a  depth  of  two  feet, 
in  some  of  those  regions  the  rains  are  sufficient  to  cover 
the  surface  to  the  depth  of  more  than  forty  feet  deep  !  The 
observations  by  which  these  results  were  obtained  were 
made  by  scientific  men  connected  with  the  civil  or  military 
service  of  Great  Britain  in  those  regions. 

The  amount  of  devastation  produced  on  the  slopes  and 
declivities  of  the  land  where  these  torrents  fall,  and  the 
extent  and  grandeur  of  the  inundations  MThich  they  cause 


FROST    ON    THE    WINDOWS.  135 

in  the  rivers  through  which  the  waters  flow  to  the  sea,  are 
inconceivable,  it  is  said,  to  those  who  have  not  witnessed 
them. 

But  to  return  to  Lawrence  and  John.  In  the  course  of 
the  winter  subsequent  to  the  time  when  John  obtained  his 
pluviameter,  Lawrence  recommended  to  him  one  day  to  go 
all  over  the  house  some  very  cold  morning  and  observe  the 
difference  in  the  frost  on  the  windows,  and  see  if  he  could 
discover  what  the  causes  of  the  difference  were.  He  did 
discover  the  causes  in  some  cases.  For  instance,  he  found 
the  frost  very  thick  on  the  kitchen  windows  after  a  very 
cold  night,  on  account  of  there  having  been  washing  done 
in  the  kitchen  the  day  before,  by  which  means  the  air  was 
filled  with  vapor.  In  another  room  there  was  no  frost  at 
all.  He  ascertained  that  this  was  undoubtedly  caused  by 
the  fact  that  the  room  was  fitted  with  double  windows, 
and  the  inner  panes — those  which  came  in  contact  with  the 
air  of  the  room  —  were  prevented  from  becoming  cold 
enough  to  condense  the  moisture. 

The  causes  which  produced  the  results  in  these  cases 
were  obvious,  but  there  were  other  cases  which  he  could 
not  explain. 

Now  the  attempt  of  John  to  discover  the  causes  of  the 
difference  of  the  condensation  upon  the  different  windows 
was  somewhat  analogous  to  the  investigations  which  have 
been  made  by  scientific  men  to  ascertain  in  what  way  the 
enormous  differences  which  exist  in  the  amount  of  annual 
rain-fall  in  the  different  regions  of  the  earth  are  to  be  ac- 
counted for.  These  philosophers  have  made  a  great  many 
and  very  long-continued  observations  for  the  purpose  of 
ascertaining  the  exact  facts,  and  then  have  studied  very 
profoundly  the  nature  of  the  agencies  by  which  the  phe- 
nomena are  due. 


130  EFFECTS    OF   KAIN. 

Some  of  my  readers  may  perhaps  be  surprised  that,  aft- 
er having  quoted,  apparently  with  approval,  what  Law- 
rence said  about  exactness,  I  should  continue  to  use  that 
word,  as  if  exactness  were  after  all  possible,  although,  as 
they  recollect  Lawrence's  words,  he  said  that  exactness 
was  impossible.  But  what  Lawrence  really  said  was  that 
theoretical  exactness — that  is,  strict,  absolute,  mathematical 
exactness,  was  impossible  in  material  measurements  and 
fittings.  The  truth  is,  that  the  word,  like  most  other 
words  used  by  scientific  men,  is  employed  in  two  senses. 
Besides  the  strictly  mathematical  sense,  in  which  the  thing 
is  impossible,  it  has  a  sense  in  which  it  is  employed  in 
common  language,  where  it  denotes,  not  absolute  exact- 
ness, but  a  sufficiently  near  approach  to  it  to  answer  well 
the  particular  purpose  intended  in  the  individual  case.  It 
is  in  this  sense  that  the  word  is  used  when  we  speak  of  as- 
certaining the  "  exact  facts"  in  respect  to  the  relative  quan- 
tities of  rain  that  fall  in  different  countries. 

The  form,  manner,  and  degree  in  which  the  effects  con- 
nected with  the  rain-fall  are  produced  are  immensely  va- 
ried in  different  parts  of  the  earth,  but  the  principles  which 
control  the  action  in  every  case  are  always  the  same. 

One  of  the  cases  that  are  most  striking  as  illustrating 
these  principles,  and  one  which,  when  fully  brought  to  the 
mind  in  its  vast  proportions,  is  extremely  grand  and  sub- 
lime, is  what  might  almost  be  called  the  grand  distilling 
apparatus  formed  of  the  Desert  of  Sahara,  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  the  plains  of  the  Amazon,  and  the  immense  con- 
denser of  the  Andes.  These  four  vast  elements  are  con- 
nected together,  and  combined  in  their  action,  so  as  to 
form  one  immense  hydraulic  engine  for  irrigating  all  the 
smooth  and  level  regions  of  the  continent,  and  grading  the 
rest. 

The  manner  in  which  this  stupendous  operation  is  car 


GBAXD    PROCESS    OF    DISTILLATION.  137 

ried  on  is  this :  The  Desert  of  Sahara  is  the  heater.  A 
tropical  sun  pours  its  rays  incessantly  upon  it,  and,  by  re- 
flection and  conduction,  raises  to  a  high  temperature  the 
vast  volumes  of  air  lying  above  it.  Now,  as  the  prevail- 
ing winds  in  that  zone  are  from  east  to  west,  the  air,  as  it 
is  thus  heated,  is  borne  to  the  westward  over  the  Atlantic, 
having  been  endued  by  the  heat  and  dryness  of  the  desert 
with  an  excessive  absorptive  capacity  for  water.  This  ap- 
petite it  satiates  in  its  three  thousand  miles'  passage  across 
the  Atlantic,  and  it  arrives  on  the  American  shores  loaded 
with  a  quantity  of  aqueous  vapor  which  it  can  only  hold 
so  long  as  its  elevated  temperature  is  retained.  In  passing 
over  the  land,  however,  its  temperature  is  reduced,  at  first 
moderately,  as  it  moves  over  the  plains  and  gently-undu- 
lating lands  of  the  Valley  of  the  Amazon,  so  that,  in  gen- 
eral, it  lets  fall  on  those  alluvial  and  fertile  regions  only 
gentle  and  refreshing  showers ;  but  as  it  advances  toward 
the  declivities  of  the  Andes,  the  glaciers  in  the  valleys,  and 
the  snow-covered  domes  which  form  the  summit,  or,  rather, 
the  cold  in  those  regions  which  produce  the  ice  and  snow, 
operate  together  as  a  vast  condenser,  and  the  waters  fall 
in  rains  so  copious  and  so  incessant  that,  in  certain  regions 
and  in  certain  seasons,  the  whole  country  is  deluged.  The 
air  gives  up  all  the  water  which  it  has  in  solution  except 
the  very  small  quantity,  comparatively,  that  it  can  hold  at 
that  extremely  reduced  temperature,  so  that,  in  passing 
down  the  mountain  slopes  into  the  warm  regions  on  the 
other  side,  it  is  unable,  sometimes  for  years,  to  afford  the 
countries  of  Peru  and  Chili,  which  lie  there,  the  gentlest 
shower.  The  water  which  the  breezes,  first  heated  over 
the  desert,  had  taken  up  from  the  ocean,  they  have  restored 
so  completely  to  the  land  that  their  career  ends  in  a  region 
as  rainless  as  that  in  which  it  began. 
This  whole  mighty  movement  forms,  as  it  were,  a  river 


138  EFFECTS    OF    RAIX. 

of  air,  which  takes  up  and  afterward  lays  down  vast  quan- 
tities of  water  as  it  proceeds  on  its  course,  just  as  the  wa- 
ter in  a  river  upon  the  land  takes  up  mud  and  other  earthy 
matter  in  one  place,  and  deposits  it  in  another  hundreds  or 
thousands  of  miles  farther  on.  Our  aerial  river  carries  its 
aqueous  charge  for  five  or  six  thousand  miles,  and  contin- 
ues the  work  unceasingly,  from  century  to  century,  through 
periods  of  inconceivable  duration.  The  phenomenon  con- 
stitutes an  operation  so  stupendous  that,  were  we  capable 
of  comprehending  and  appreciating  the  elements  involved 
in  it  —  the  distances,  the  magnitudes,  the  duration  —  it 
would  fill  us  with  emotions  of  the  highest  possible  sublim- 
ity and  grandeur. 

Almost  every  river,  indeed,  in  its  flow  from  the  moun- 
tains to  the  sea,  forms  part  of  the  instrumentality  for  ef- 
fecting changes  in  the  earth's  surface  by  a  process  analo- 
gous to  this.  We  see  an  epitome,  in  fact,  of  the  life  and 
work  of  every  river,  in  performing  its  part  in  this  great 
process,  in  the  opposite  engraving,  which  represents  a  view 
from  the  mountains  of  the  River  Serra,  in  Brazil. 

In  the  foreground  we  see  the  vast  chasm  which  the  riv- 
er has  worn,  in  the  course  of  ages,  in  the  solid  structure 
of  the  mountain.  The  plain  below,  through  which  it  is 
seen  peacefully  meandering,  is  formed,  in  great  part,  of  the 
materials  which  it  has  itself  procured  and  brought  down 
by  this  long-continued  process  of  disintegration,  and  which, 
while  endlessly  shifting  the  arrangement  of  it  by  its  chan- 
ging meanderings,  it  is  to  move  continually  onward,  until 
at  length  it  reaches  its  ultimate  destination  at  the  bottom 
of  the  sea. 

There  are  not  many  cases  where  the  work  of  taking  up 
water  from  the  ocean  and  pouring  it  down  upon  the  moun 
tains  goes  on  upon  so  vast  a  scale  and  in  so  striking  a 
manner  as  that  of  the  Sahara,  the  Atlantic,  and  the  Ande?, 


TARIED   EFFECTS. 


139 


LIFE  AND  WORK   OP  A  EIVEE. 


but  the  principles  involved  in  the  process  are  substantially 
the  same  in  all,  and  the  processes  are  going  on  upon  a 
scale  of  greater  or  less  magnificence  all  over  the  world. 
Here  it  is  a  steady  atmospheric  current,  always  flowing 
and  always  serene ;  there  a  vast  whirlpool,  extending  over 
a  whole  continent,  and  advancing  slowly  as  it  revolves, 
carrying  storm  and  tempest  with  it  wherever  it  goes ;  in 
another  place,  as  in  the  highlands  of  Scotland,  a  flow  of 
air  coming  in  clear  and  transparent  from  the  sea,  and  turn- 
ing into  fogs,  and  mists,  and  rains  as  fast  as  it  reaches  those 
regions  of  condensation.  If  we  had  an  artificial  globe  be- 
fore us  which  would  exhibit  to  our  view  the  grand  move- 
ments in  the  atmosphere  around  the  earth,  and  the  phe- 


140  EFFECTS    OF   BAIN. 

nomena  of  rain,  hail,  and  snow  which  accompany  them, 
with  the  distinctness  with  which  the  globes  we  have  show 
us  the  geographical  features  of  its  surface,  we  should  all, 
old  and  young,  watch  the  movements  and  changes  with 
never-ending  wonder  and  delight. 


MONTMOUF.NCI. 


STBATA    CUT   THROUGH.  143 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    GEOLOGICAL   CABINET. 

IT  is  surprising  to  observe  how  large  a  portion  of  the 
earth's  surface,  as  at  present  existing,  has  been  apparently 
produced,  in  respect  to  its  structure  and  the  arrangement 
of  the  materials  composing  it,  by  the  action  of  rivers — 
rivers  which,  in  many  cases,  no  longer  exist,  but  which 
have  left  ample  proofs  of  their  former  existence  in  the  ef-. 
fects  accomplished  by  their  action.  Water,  of  course, 
leaves  its  deposits  generally  in  strata,  sometimes  horizon- 
tal, and  sometimes  more  or  less  inclined ;  and  this,  whether 
they  are  deposits  foi'med  in  the  beds  of  lakes,  or  from  the 
materials  which  the  rivers  bring  to  be  spread  in  layers 
under  the  sea.  In  process  of  time,  when  the  strata  thus 
formed  are  raised  by  upheaval,  and  become  subaerial  land 
— from  having  been  subaqueous  or  submarine — and  they 
become  subject  to  the  action  of  other  rivers  flowing  over 
them,  or  to  other  causes  producing  disintegration  and  de- 
cay, the  original  structure  is  revealed  by  the  stratified  ap- 
pearance which  the  rocks  present.  Sometimes  this  strati- 
fication, as  in  the  case  of  the  Steps  of  the  Montmorenci,  not 
far  from  Quebec,  is  very  remarkable. 

In  this  case,  the  work  done  by  the  river  in  cutting 
through  the  strata,  though  obvious,  is  comparatively  small. 
In  many  cases  the  decay  of  the  rocks  from  atmospherical 
causes  is  so  great  that  a  comparatively  small  stream  pro- 
duces an  enormous  excavation,  as  is  seen  in  the  High  Falls 
at  Catskill,  where  the  excavations  obviously  produced  by 
the  stream  are  on  a  scale  of  such  grandeur  that  no  engrav- 


144 


THE    GEOLOGICAL   CABINET. 


ing  can  give  any  adequate  idea  of  them.  The  same  kind 
of  effect  is,  however,  shown  on  a  much  smaller  scale  in  a 
fall  among  the  Helderberg  Mountains,  as  it  appears  in  win- 
ter, when  the  falling  water,  which  is  in  itself  a  mere  thread, 
has  built  up  a  mass  of  stalagmites  and  stalactites  of  ice  by 


AN    IOT   FAI/L. 


SEDIMENTARY   AND   CRYSTALLINE    ROCKS.  145 

which  the  water  itself  is  almost  entirely  concealed.  These 
masses  of  ice,  when  they  become  loosened  in  the  spring, 
bring  down  portions  of  the  rock  with  them  in  their  fall, 
and  help  materially  in  forming  the  cavernous  excavations 
which  the  projecting  precipice  overhangs,  thus  presenting 
another  example  of  the  infinite  variety  of  modes,  to  be 
hereafter  more  particularly  explained,  by  which  the  action 
of  ice  aids  in  the  abrasion  and  disintegration  of  rocks. 

But  besides  such  strata  as  these,  formed  by  deposition 
from  water,  there  are  a  great  many  others  of  a  totally  dif- 
ferent kind,  which  have  every  appearance  of  having  been 
formed  by  cooling  from  a  state  of  fusion.  The  former  are 
often  called  sedimentary  rocks.  The  latter  are  called  crys- 
talline rocks,  from  the  fact  that  there  is  a  prevailing  tend- 
ency to  a  crystalline  structure  in  the  formation  of  them. 
These  crystalline  rocks,  too,  seem  to  be,  in  general,  older 
than  the  sedimentary  rocks,  for  the  sedimentary  rocks  gen- 
erally lie  above  them ;  that  is,  when  they  both  appear  upon 
the  surface  of  the  ground,  the  strata  of  crystalline  rocks 
generally  appear  to  come  up  in  a  sloping  direction  from  be- 
neath the  others.  They  are  called,  on  that  account,  the 
primary  rocks,  from  these  and  other  indications  that  the 
formation  of  them  preceded  the  others  in  the  order  of  time. 

Sometimes,  however,  rocks  of  a  somewhat  similar  crys- 
talline character  are  found  in  veins,  which  have  the  appear- 
ance of  fissures  that  have  been  filled  by  melted  matter 
forced  up  from  below,  or  in  beds  overlying  such  fissures, 
through  which  the  fused  material  composing  them  may 
have  ascended. 

Now  there  are  a  great  many  kinds  of  both  these  classes 
of  rocks ;  indeed,  the  varieties  are  almost  infinitely  multi- 
plied ;  and,  as  probably  all  the  readers  of  this  work  well 
know,  there  have  been  formed,  in  different  parts  of  the 
world,  great  geological  cabinets  containing  specimens  of 
G 


l£6  THE  GEOLOGICAL,   CABINET. 

them.  A  geological  cabinet  consists  of  specimens  of  these 
different  kinds  of  rocks,  and  especially  of  the  fossils  which 
are  found  in  them,  and  Lawrence  recommended  to  John  to 
commence  the  collection  of  such  a  cabinet  for  himself,  to 
contain  specimens  of  the  different  kinds  of  rocks  occurring 
in  the  region  of  country  where  they  lived. 

"  I  haven't  any  case  to  put  them  in,"  said  John. 

"You  will  not  need  any  case  until  you  have  collected 
your  cabinet,"  said  Lawrence,  "  or,  at  least,  until  you  have 
made  a  good  beginning  in  the  collection  of  it.  That's  the 
way  with  men.  It  would  be  very  difficult  for  them  to  in- 
duce people  to  give  money  to  erect  a  building  for  a  mu- 
seum so  long  as  there  were  no  curiosities  or  specimens  to 
put  into  it.  But  when  the  curiosities  are  once  collected, 
and  are  all  ready,  in  different  and  temporary  places  of  de- 
posit, then  it  is  comparatively  easy  to  induce  people  to 
contribute  money  for  a  building  in  which  they  can  be  ar- 
ranged more  conveniently,  and  be  better  seen.  This  is  the 
way  in  which  all  the  great  museums  of  the  world  have  been 
formed,  and  there  are  a  great  many  of  them." 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  of  the  grand  collections  that 
Lawrence  referred  to  is  the  one  in  London  called  the  Brit- 
ish Museum.  It  occupies  an  immense  building,  or,  rather, 
range  of  buildings,  and  contains  a  vast  collection,  not  only 
of  specimens  of  minerals  and  plants,  but  also  of  animals, 
from  the  skeletons  of  the  great  fossil  monsters  down  to 
the  smallest  microscopic  animalculas.  The  collection  is  so 
large  that  it  would  take  a  great  many  hours  merely  to 
walk  through  the  rooms  devoted  to  the  different  depart- 
ments. These  rooms  are  generally  in  the  form  of  long  gal- 
leries, with  a  row  of  glass  cases  in  a  horizontal  position 
through  the  centre  of  them,  and  vertical  cases,  with  glass 
doors,  along  the  walls.  Although  the  whole  collection 
could  not  be  thoroughly  examined  in  a  life-time,  it  is  yet 


TI1E    MUSEUM   LIBRARY.  147 

of  immense  value  to  mankind  by  affording  to  every  one 
ample  means  to  examine  fully  the  specimens  of  any  par- 
ticular department  which  he  may  wish  to  study. 

It  is,  in  this  respect,  like  the  library ;  for  there  is  a  libra- 
ry in  connection  with  the  Museum  on  as  grand  a  scale  as 
the  rest.  The  books  are  contained  in  one  immense  circu- 
lar room,  hundreds  of  feet  in  diameter,  making  the  people 
that  are  in  it  look  quite  small  from  one  side  to  the  other, 
and  also  in  a  great  many  other  adjoining  rooms  and  halls. 
Now  no  one  person  could  in  a  life-time  read  one  hundredth 
part  of  these  books.  But  there  are  always  hundreds  of 
persons  in  it,  each  one  reading  and  studying  the  books  re- 
lating to  the  subject  in  which,  for  the  time  being,  he  is  in- 
dividually interested.  These  readers  are  seated  at  very 
long  ranges  of  tables  and  desks,  which  radiate  from  a  cir- 
cular raised  platform,  with  a  railing  round  it  in  the  centre, 
which  platform  forms  the  office  of  the  attendant  librarians. 
The  readers,  when  at  their  work,  are  seated  at  these  tables 
and  desks,  and  the  librarians  bring  them  the  books  they 
require.  The  ranges  of  desks  and  tables  are  separated 
from  each  other  by  divisions  high  enough  to  seclude,  in 
some  measure,  each  group  of  readers  from  the  rest,  and 
afford  them  a  certain  degree  of  retirement  so  long  as  they 
are  seated  at  their  work ;  while  yet,  by  rising,  they  can 
look  over  these  divisions,  and  have  the  whole  extent  of  the 
immense  rotunda  open  to  their  view.  It  is  all  exceedingly 
convenient,  except  that  if  you  go  there  with  a  friend,  and 
get  separated  from  him  in  strolling  around  and  looking  at 
the  books,  it  is  very  hard  for  you  to  find  each  other  again. 

But  to  return  to  Lawrence  and  John,  and  the  talk  about 
the  proposed  geological  collection.  Lawrence  advised  John 
to  say  nothing  about  a  cabinet  for  his  specimens  until  he 
had  made  a  considerable  collection  of  them,  in  accordance 
with  the  usual  custom  among  men  in  such  cases.  While 


148  THE    GEOLOGICAL    CABINET. 

he  was  thus  collecting  them  he  could  put  them,  tempora- 
rily, Lawrence  said,  upon  some  shelf  in  his  shop ;  for  John, 
in  imitation  of  his  cousin  Lawrence,  had  a  little  shop  of  his 
own. 

The  plan  formed  for  the  catalogue  was  this :  John  was 
to  make  a  book,  each  page  of  which  was  to  be  ruled  in  four 
columns,  two  narrow  and  two  wide  ones  alternately,  with 
two  lines  ruled  horizontally  at  the  top,  inclosing  a  space 
between  for  the  names  of  the  columns.  The  first  column, 
which  was  to  be  narrow,  was  to  contain  the  number  of  the 
specimens ;  the  second,  which  was  to  be  wider,  was  for  the 
name  of  it ;  the  third,  somewhat  narrow  again,  was  to  be 
for  the  locality  where  it  was  found ;  and  the  fourth  for  any 
memoranda  of  its  position  which  it  might  be  desirable  to 
insert;  thus: 


No. 

Name. 

Locality. 

Memoranda. 

only,  as  the  pages  in  John's  book  would  be  much  wider 
than  this  page,  the  columns  would  be  wider  in  proportion. 

"Now,"  said  Lawrence,  after  describing  this  mode  of 
ruling  the  book,  "  all  you  will  have  to  do  when  you  obtain 
any  specimen  will  be  to  number  it,  by  gumming  or  gluing 
a  very  small  numbered  ticket  upon  it,  and  if  you  are  not 
sure  what  the  name  of  that  kind  of  rock  is,  you  can  leave 
the  second  column  blank  till  you  ascertain.  You  can,  how- 
ever, at  once  put  in  the  name  of  the  place  where  you  found 
it  in  the  third  column,  and  any  particulars  that  are  im- 
portant in  respect  to  the  character  and  position  of  the  stra- 
ta which  you  took  it  from  in  the  fourth. 

"And  now,"  added  Lawrence,  in  concluding  this  account 


NAMES    AND   THINGS.  149 

of  the  manner  in  which  the  book  to  contain  the  catalogue 
was  to  be  made,  "  the  first  thing  is  to  collect  some  speci- 
mens—  half  a  dozen  or  more  —  and  put  numbers  upon 
them ;  the  next  thing  will  be  to  make  the  book,  and  enter 
them ;  and  then  to  find  some  temporary  place  of  deposit- 
ing them.  If  you  are  careful  to  number  them  all,  and  to 
make  an  entry  in  the  book  of  the  place  where  they  were 
found,  and  the  situation  and  character  of  the  ledge  of 
rocks  from  which  you  took  them,  you  will  have  them  all 
safe.  You  can  put  the  names  in  at  any  time  afterward,  as 
you  find  them  out.  I  can  tell  you  the  names  of  some  of 
them,  but  perhaps  not  of  a  great  many,  as  I  have  not  stud- 
ied practical  geology  a  great  deal  yet.  But  I  wish  to  do 
it,  and  I  shall  begin  to  do  it,  in  fact,  by  helping  you  in  mak- 
ing your  collection.  But  you  can  put  into  your  book  all 
about  each  specimen  except  the  name." 

"  The  name  is  the  principal  thing,"  said  John. 

"No,"  rejoined  Lawrence;  "it  is  a  very  important  thing, 
but  not  the  principal.  We  may  know  a  great  deal  about 
any  object  or  substance  without  knowing  its  name.  Know- 
ing the  name  of  a  thing  is,  in  fact,  only  the  means  of  con- 
necting our  knowledge  of  the  thing  with  that  of  other  peo- 
ple's, and  so  making  their  knowledge  of  it  ours." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  that,"  said  John. 

"  Why,  take  oxygen,  for  example.  We  can  conceive  of 
a  person  experimenting  in  a  laboratory  with  oxygen,  and 
learning  a  great  deal  about  its  characteristics  and  proper- 
ties, without  knowing  the  name  of  the  substance  at  all ; 
and  he  may  also  have  a  chemical  dictionary,  in  which  a 
great  deal  more  is  told  about  the  substance,  and  many 
things  that  he  had  not  discovered  ;  but,  as  long  as  he  does 
not  know  the  name  by  which  the  substance  is  known  to 
other  people,  he  would  not  know  where  to  look  in  the  dic- 
tionary in  order  to  find  out  what  other  people  had  learned 


150  THE    GEOLOGICAL    CABIXET. 

about  it.  But  as  soon  as  he  knows  that  the  wonderful 
substance  which  he  has  been  experimenting  with  is  the 
same  as  that  designated  in  all  the  books  under  the  name 
of  oxygen,  then  he  can  connect  the  results  of  their  experi- 
ments and  discoveries  with  his. 

"And  that  is,  in  all  cases,  the  real  advantage  of  knowing 
the  name,"  continued  Lawrence.  "  P^or  instance,  if  we  find 
a  particular  mineral,  we  can  examine  it — we  can  analyze 
and  find  what  it  is  composed  of,  and  at  what  temperature 
it  melts,  and  observe  the  form  and  the  situation  of  the 
strata  in  which  it  lay,  and,  in  fact,  learn  a  great  many 
other  things  about  it — all,  in  fact,  that  we  can  ourselves 
discover.  Knowing  the  name  will  not  help  us  at  all  in 
out  own  examination  of  it.  But,  in  order  to  go  beyond 
our  own  special  examination  of  it,  and  add  to  the  knowl- 
edge which  we  have  acquired  that  which  other  people  have 
discovered — to  learn,  for  instance,  in  what  other  parts  of 
the  world  it  is  found,  and  what  are  its  connections  and  re- 
lations in  those  other  places,  the  bridge,  and  the  only  bridge 
by  Mhich  we  can  pass  over  from  the  field  of  our  discov- 
eries and  observations  to  theirs  is  the  name." 

"  Is  that  the  philosophy  of  it  ?"  asked  John. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Lawrence,  "  that  is  the  philosophy  of  it 
exactly." 

"  Then  I  can  wait  for  the  names  of  my  specimens  a  little 
while  as  well  as  not,"  said  John.  "  Besides,  Professor  Ger- 
ald will  tell  me  the  names  of  some  of  them." 

Professor  Gerald  was  the  principal  of  the  Morningside 
school.  His  school  was  at  the  distance  of  about  a  mile 
from  the  place  where  John  lived.  It  was  a  boarding- 
school,  though,  as  has  already  been  said,  John  attended  it 
as  a  day-scholar.  The  buildings  were  situated  in  the  midst 
of  park-like  grounds  on  the  eastern  slope  of  a  gentle  emi- 
nence, and  had  received,  on  this  account,  the  name  of  Morn- 
insrside. 


SATURDAY   THE    BEST  TIME.  151 

The  school-hours  closed  every  day  at  three  o'clock — at 
least  for  the  day-scholars,  of  whom,  however,  there  were 
but  two  or  three,  who  were  all  boys  of  the  neighborhood 
admitted  by  special  privilege.  This  gave  John  some  time 
each  day  to  visit  Lawrence,  and  to  work  with  him  in  his 
laboratory  and  his  shop.  In  order  to  accommodate  his  ar- 
rangements as  far  as  possible  to  John's,  Lawrence  used  to 
attend  to  his  reading  and  study  during  the  hours  while 
John  was  at  school ;  so  that  when  John,  every  day  at  about 
half  past  three,  left  Morningside  and  went  to  his  cousin's, 
which  was  not  far  off,  he  usually  found  Lawrence  in  his  la- 
boratory performing  some  experiment,  or  else  construct- 
ing some  new  piece  of  apparatus  in  his  shop. 

Besides  what  remained  of  the  afternoon  for  such  occu- 
pations John  had  the  whole  of  Saturday ;  for  Saturday  was 
a  holiday  at  the  school,  excepting  that  there  was  usually 
an  exercise  of  about  an  hour  immediately  after  breakfast 
on  that  day. 

This  being  the  state  of  things  in  respect  to  school-hours, 
it  is  evident  that  when  the  plan  was  formed  of  making  an 
excursion  in  search  of  geological  specimens  to  commence 
the  cabinet,  the  best  time  for  it  would  be  on  some  Satur- 
day. This  was  accordingly  at  once  decided  upon.  The 
best  mode  of  going  on  the  excursion  was  not  so  easily  set- 
tled. John  at  first  proposed  that  they  should  go  on  horse- 
back ;  but  Lawrence  said  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  carry 
the  tools  and  to  bring  home  the  specimens  on  horseback. 
The  next  proposition  that  John  made  was  that  they  should 
go  in  a  boat,  for  the  river  was  so  far  navigable  that  it  was 
possible  to  make  one's  way  several  miles  up  and  down  the 
current  in  a  small  boat  which  John  kept  in  a  pretty  little 
cove  not  a  great  way  from  his  father's  house.  But  it  would 
be  necessary  to  have  a  very  pleasant  day — a  real  Indian- 
summer  day,  Lawrence  said,  to  make  a  boat  excursion 


152  THE    GEOLOGICAL    CABINET. 

agreeable  at  that  time  of  the  year ;  whereas  in  a  wagon 
they  could  go  very  comfortably  even  in  quite  a  cool  day. 
When  they  were  out  at  work  collecting  specimens  the  ex- 
ercise would  keep  them  warm,  and  when  riding  the  shelter 
of  the  cover — for  it  was  a  light  covered  wagon  that  they 
proposed  to  take — would  protect  them.  Besides,  they  could 
carry  their  tools  and  bring  home  their  specimens  very  con- 
veniently in  a  wagon.  They  could  even  take  a  crowbar 
with  them,  Lawrence  said,  if  they  chose. 

So  it  was  decided  to  take  a  wagon,  and  Lawrence  was 
to  call  at  Morningside  for  John  at  the  proper  hour  on  the 
next  Saturday  morning. 


PREPARATIONS.  153 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE      EXCURSION. 

FROM  among  the  various  vehicles  that  John's  father  pos- 
sessed Lawrence  chose  a  small  and  light  wagon,  covered 
above,  and  with  curtains  that  could  be  rolled  up  at  the 
sides.  For  tools,  a  stone-hammer  and  stone-chisel  were  re- 
quired, or,  at  least,  were  very  desirable.  A  stone-hammer 
is  flat  at  one  end  and  wedge-shaped  at  the  other.  Law- 
rence found  the  remains  of  a  hammer  of  this  kind  among 
the  old  iron,  but  the  edge  of  the  wedge  part  was  somewhat 
worn  and  battered,  and  the  handle  was  split  in  pieces.  He, 
however,  succeeded  in  grinding  off  some  of  the  roughness 
from  the  wedge  end,  so  as  to  put  it  into  pretty  good  shape, 
and  he  fitted  to  it  a  new  hard-wood  handle.  John,  too, 
availed  himself  of  Lawrence's  suggestion  by  putting  his 
crow-bar — which  was  a  small  one  that  had  been  made  ex- 
pressly for  him  when  he  was  about  ten  years  old — into  the 
wagon.  They  took  a  pretty  big  basket,  too,  to  bring  home 
their  specimens  in,  and  some  old  newspapers,  so  that  they 
might  wrap  up  the  different  specimens  separately,  and  pre- 
vent their  abrading  each  other. 

Lawrence  also  made  a  kind  of  stone-chisel  out  of  an  old 
file  by  heating  it  so  as  to  "draw  the  temper;"  for  files  are 
hardened  so  much  in  the  manufacture  as  to  make  them 
very  brittle,  so  that  they  will  not  bear  blows ;  but,  by  the 
process  of  heating,  such  hardened  steel  becomes  less  hard 
and  brittle,  but  more  tough.  Where  great  hardness,  and 
no  special  strength  is  required,  as  in  the  case  of  files,  the 
steel  is  tempered  very  high ;  but  for  knives  and  chisels, 
G  2 


154  THE    EXCURSION. 

and  other  such  tools,  where  strength  as  well  as  hardness 
is  essential,  the  steel  must  be  tempered  down  to  a  lower 
grade. 

The  file  which  Lawrence  took  was  a  pretty  large  one, 
and  was  of  the  flat  form.  When  he  proposed  heating  it  to 
reduce  the  temper,  he  said  to  John  that  the  reason  why 
that  must  be  done  was  because  the  steel  in  a  file  was  too 
hard. 

"  But,"  said  John,  "  the  harder  it  is  the  better,  if  we  are 
going  to  cut  into  rocks  with  it." 

"  True,"  said  Lawrence,  "  if  it  is  not  so  hard  as  to  be 
brittle." 

So  saying,  and  before  putting  the  file  into  the  fire,  he 
placed  the  end  of  it  upon  his  anvil — for  he  had  an  anvil  in 
his  shop — and,  striking  a  sharp  blow  upon  the  end  where 
the  shank  was  formed,  that  is,  the  part  that  goes  into  the 
handle,  he  broke  that  part  short  off.  It  broke  very  easily, 
the  steel  was  so  brittle.  Then  he  heated  it  in  the  fire  to 
reduce  the  temper,  and  afterward  let  it  cool  slowly ;  then 
he  ground  the  other  end  to  an  edge,  though  not  to  a  very 
sharp  edge,  and  finally  hardened  that  part  by  heating  it 
again  and  plunging  it  while  hot  into  cold  water. 

It  requires  a  great  deal  of  judgment  and  discretion  to 
harden  tools  in  the  right  way  and  to  the  proper  degree  of 
hardness ;  for  different  degrees  of  hardness  are  required  for 
different  tools,  and  even  for  the  different  parts,  sometimes, 
of  the  same  tool.  But  Lawrence  had  studied  this  subject 
scientifically,  and  John  watched  with  great  interest  the 
progress  of  his  cousin's  operations  on  the  temper  of  the 
old  file,  in  the  process  of  converting  it  into  a  stone-chisel. 

At  length  every  thing  was  ready,  all  these  preparations 
having  been  made  on  the  Friday  afternoon  before  the  day 
appointed  for  the -excursion.  When  the  morning  came  the 
weather  did  not  promise  very  favorably;  the  wind  was 


DIFFICULTIES.  155 

northeast,  the  barometer  was  falling,  and,  though  the  sky 
was  generally  clear,  there  was  a  hazy  cloud  extending  all 
along  the  horizon  toward  the  southwest.  Lawrence  told 
John  that  the  prospect  was  not  very  favorable  for  them, 
but  John  was  eager  to  go  notwithstanding. 

"I  don't  believe  it  will  rain,"  said  he. 

"I  think  it  very  likely  that  it  will  rain  before  night," 
said  Lawrence,  "  but  it  will  not  harm  us  much  if  it  does. 
The  wind  is  northeast,  and  when  we  are  coming  home  it 
will  be  behind  us,  and  we  shall  be  entirely  protected  from 
it." 

So  it  was  decided  that  they  should  go,  and  at  the  ap- 
pointed time  on  Saturday  morning  Lawrence  went  driving 
in  at  the  great  gate  leading  into  the  Morningside  grounds. 

In  due  time  John  appeared,  and  they  set  out  on  their 
excursion.  But  it  did  not  prove  to  be  a  very  successful 
expedition  after  all,  at  least  in  a  geological  point  of  view. 
The  clouds  which  had  been  seen  gathering,  or,  rather,  form- 
ing in  the  southwest,  gradually  extended  till  they  covered 
the  whole  sky.  The  air,  too,  was  raw  and  cold,  so  that  the 
work  of  climbing  among  rocks  and  breaking  off  specimens 
was  not  very  agreeable,  especially  as,  according  to  the 
plan  they  had  formed,  it  was  necessary  to  stop  at  each 
place  where  specimens  were  obtained  to  make  memoranda 
with  pencil  and  paper  of  the  situation  of  the  ledge,  the  in- 
clination of  the  strata,  the  existence  or  non-existence  of 
seams  and  veins,  and  other  such  particulars  as  were  to  be 
entered  in  the  catalogue. 

They  stopped  about  one  o'clock  at  a  village  inn  in  a  se- 
cluded place  near  a  waterfall,  about  eight  miles  from  home, 
to  refresh  the  horse  and  procure  some  dinner  for  them- 
selves; for  there  is  this  great  advantage  in  the  practical 
study  of  geology,  namely,  that  the  excursions  which  the 
student  makes,  whether  they  are  the  means  of  producing 


156  THE    EXCURSION. 

maiiy  satisfactory  specimens  for  him  or  not,  are  very  sure 
to  give  him  a  good  appetite. 

After  they  had  spent  an  hour  at  the  inn  the  wagon  was 
brought  to  the  door,  and,  on  going  out  to  it,  they  found 
that  it  was  beginning  to  rain,  so  they  concluded  at  once 
to  set  out  on  their  return  home.  The  wind,  however,  as 
Lawrence  had  predicted,  was  behind  them — that  is,  from 
the  northeast,  although  the  storm  which  it  was  bringing 
came  from  the  southwest ;  or,  at  least,  the  clouds  and  the 
rain,  as  soon  as  the  rain  began  to  fall,  appeared  first  in 
that  quarter  of  the  sky,  and  worked  backward,  as  it  were, 
against  the  wind,  or,  rather,  in  a  contrary  direction  from 
that  of  the  motion  of  the  wind.  This,  though  it  is  a  phe- 
nomenon in  the  climate  of  the  United  States  which  every 
one  has  often  an  opportunity  to  observe,  is  to  most  persons 
an  inexplicable  mystery.  How  can  a  storm  work  back- 
ward in  a  direction  exactly  contrary  to  its  own  wind  ? 

Wonderful  as  it  is,  this  is  very  often  the  eflect,  and  it 
was  distinctly  so  in  this  case ;  for  Lawrence  and  John  saw 
the  clouds  in  the  southwest  in  the  morning,  though  it  did 
not  become  cloudy  where  they  were  till  noon,  although 
they  had  been  going  against  the  wind  all  the  way.  And, 
though  they  saw  that  it  was  raining  toward  the  southwest 
when  they  went  in  to  dinner,  it  did  not  begin  to  rain  at 
the  village  tavern  till  they  came  out. 

As  soon  as  they  had  fairly  set  out  on  their  return  the 
rain  began  to  increase,  but,  as  the  wind  was  behind  them, 
they  were  well  sheltered  from  it,  and  so  John  said  he  did 
not  much  care,  after  all. 


LECTURER  AND   CLASS.  157 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

LECTURE   IN  A   WAGON. 

"  AND  yet,"  said  John,  as  the  horse  began  to  trot  along 
the  road,  "I  think  this  expedition  has  been  rather  a  fail- 
ure." 

"/have  had  a  pretty  good  time,"  said  Lawrence. 

"Yes,"  said  John,  "so  have  I.  I  have  had  an  excellent 
time.  But  I  meant  as  to  specimens.  We  have  not  got  a 
great  many  specimens." 

"True,"  replied  Lawrence;  "in  a  geological  point  of 
view,  perhaps,  the  excursion  has  been  somewhat  u  failure. 
But  the  main  thing  is  to  have  a  good  time  when  we  are 
out  for  rest  and  recreation  from  our  studies ;  and  there  is 
one  way  that  we  can  make  this  ride  profitable,  geologic- 
ally, yet." 

"How  is  that?"  asked  John. 

"  By  my  giving  you  a  lecture  on  some  point  on  our  way- 
home." 

John  was  pleased  with  this  idea,  and  acceded  to  it  at 
once. 

"I  will  be  the  lecturer,"  said  Lawrence, " and  you  shall 
be  the  class.  Then,  when  the  lecture  is  finished,  there  shall 
be  an  examination,  and  a  prize  for  the  scholar  in  the  class 
that  passes  the  best  examination." 

"  But  there  will  only  be  one  scholar  in  the  class !"  said 
John,  laughing. 

"  True,"  replied  Lawrence,  "  and  so  he  will  have  all  the 
better  chance  to  gain  the  prize." 

John  was  somewhat  amused  at  the  idea  of  a  prize  to  be 


158  LECTUKE   IN   A  WAGON. 

contended  for  by  a  single  competitor,  but  he  called  upon 
Lawrence  to  begin. 

"  The  subject  of  my  lecture,"  said  Lawrence,  commencing 
in  a  somewhat  oratorical  tone,  as  if  he  were  addressing  an 
audience,"  will  be  the  various  agencies  by  which  the  river 
obtains  its  supplies  of  materials.  There  are  six  of  them." 

"  I  know  what  a  great  many  of  them  are  already,"  said 
John — "  rains,  springs,  brooks,  swamps,  and  ponds.  There 
are  five  of  them.  I  don't  believe  there  is  any  other — un- 
less it  is  dew,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's  thought.  "  Does 
the  dew  fall  on  the  water  as  well  as  on  the  ground  ?  If  it 
does,  that  makes  the  whole  six." 

"  However  that  may  be,"  replied  Lawrence, "  the  sources 
of  supply  that  you  name  are  those  which  go  to  form  the 
river  itself.  I  mean  by  supplies  of  materials  not  the  sub- 
stance that  constitutes  the  river,  but  those  which  it  employs 
in  doing  its  work.  However,  you  were  right.  In  a  certain 
sense,  and  that,  too,  a  very  proper  one,  those  are  sources  of 
supply  for  the  river.  But  I  mean  sources  of  supply  for  the 
materials  which  the  river  employs  in  doing  its  work — that 
is,  in  filling  up  the  hollows  it  finds  in  its  course,  creating 
intervales  and  meadows,  and  fertilizing  them  by  an  annual 
layer  of  sediment,  and  finally  forming  the  immensely  ex- 
tended strata  of  sand  and  earthy  material  which  it  spreads 
beyond  its  mouth  all  over  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  The 
amount  of  work  which  a  large  river  does  in  all  these  ways 
is  enormous,  and  the  quantity  of  material  required  is,  of 
course,  enormous  too.  Now  the  agencies  which  I  shall  de- 
scribe in  this  lecture  by  which  these  materials  are  supplied 
to  it,  though  not  all  of  them  to  every  river,  are  these  six,  viz. 

"  1.  The  wind. 

"  2.  Corroding  acids  derived  from  the  air. 

"  3.  Grinding  motions  among  ledges  of  rocks  from  un- 
equal expansion  and  contraction. 


VARIOUS  AGENCIES.  159 

•'4.  Frost. 

"  5.  Moving  ice. 

"  6.  Vegetation. 

"There  may  be  others,  but  those  are  all,  young  gentle- 
men, that  I  shall  consider  in  my  lecture  to-day.  And  I 
would  recommend  to  all  of  you,  young  gentlemen" — Law- 
rence spoke  as  if  he  was  addressing  a  large  class  of  stu- 
dents in  a  lecture-room — "I  would  recommend  to  all  of 
you,  young  gentlemen,  to  pay  strict  attention  to  my  lec- 
ture, not  forgetting  that  there  is  to  be  an  examination  at 
the  close  of  it,  and  that  to  the  one  who  shall  pass  the  most 
satisfactory  examination  there  is  to  be  awarded  a  prize, 
for  which  I  have  no  doubt  there  will  be  a  brisk  competi- 
tion, or,  at  least,  that  there  will  not  be  a  single  member 
of  the  class  that  will  not  be  a  competitor  for  it." 

John  laughed  at  the  idea  of  being  addressed  himself 
alone  as  an  audience  of  many  persons,  and  of  a  brisk  com- 
petition when  there  was  only  to  be  one  competitor,  but  he 
listened  none  the  less  attentively  while  Lawrence  went  on 
with  his  lecture. 

One  would  hardly  have  thought,  without  hearing  Law- 
rence's enumeration  of  them,  how  many  different  agencies 
are  at  work  in  abrading  and  disintegrating  the  rocks  to 
furnish  the  brooks  and  rivers  with  materials  in  sufficient 
quantity  for  their  work,  and  in  a  condition  to  be  easily 
transported  by  them.  I  shall  briefly  explain  them  here, 
as  Lawrence  enumerated  them  and  explained  them  to  his 
imaginary  audience  in  the  wagon  as  they  rode  homeward 
through  the  rain. 

1.  The  first  agency  which  Lawrence  named  was  the  wind. 
The  wind,  of  course,  as  it  sweeps  over  the  land,  carries  be- 
fore it  all  the  loose  materials  that  come  in  its  way— the 
dust  of  the  roads,  the  sand  on  desert  plains,  the  dead  leaves 
and  small  branches  from  the  trees,  the  bodies  of  dead  in- 


160  LECTURE  IN   A   WAGON. 

sects,  and  even  sometimes  of  living  ones,  and  an  infinite 
variety  of  similar  substances,  all  which  it  whirls  over  the 
ground,  and  a  large  portion  of  which  it  necessarily  lets  fall 
in  its  progress  in  low  places,  and  especially  upon  the  water 
of  brooks  and  rivers.  The  water,  the  moment  any  of  these 
substances  touch  the  surface  of  it,  seizes  and  retains  them, 
and  bears  them  away ;  and  they  all  form  a  portion  of  the 
supply  of  materials  with  which  the  river  does  its  work. 

The  quantity  thus  transported  by  the  wind  seems,  at 
first  view,  to  be  small  in  amount,  but  this  is  only  because 
our  ordinary  observation  extends  over  periods  so  brief. 
But  the  effects  which  are  really  produced  by  this  cause  in 
long  periods  are  of  vast  proportions.  The  sand-hills  raised 
by  winds  alone,  in  some  places  near  the  shores  of  the  sea, 
are  enormous  in  number  and  magnitude ;  and  along  the 
margins  of  the  deserts  in  Asia  and  Africa  the  sands  drifted 
by  the  wind  gradually  overwhelm  not  only  ancient  temples 
and  monuments,  but  even  whole  cities  sometimes,  and,  in 
certain  localities,  change  materially  the  general  aspect  of 
the  country.  The  effect  of  the  winds  in  blowing  over  the 
fields  in  an  inhabited  and  cultivated  country,  though  less 
striking  than  in  these  cases,  is  in  the  aggregate  vast  in 
its  results  in  transporting  solid  matter  into  the  flowing 
streams,  and  thus  in  aiding  the  rivers  in  obtaining  supplies 
of  material  for  their  great  operations. 

2.  The  second  agency  named  by  Lawrence  was  that  of 
corroding  acids  derived  from  the  air.  These  acids,  or  other 
corroding  substances,  are  formed  in  some  mysterious  way 
in  the  air.  There  is  some  reason  to  think  they  are  often 
produced  by  the  action  of  the  electricity  in  thunder-storms, 
and  perhaps  by  the  more  gentle  and  constant  agency  of 
this  force  at  other  times.  At  any  rate,  these  corrosive  sub- 
stances are  produced,  and  then  are  absorbed  and  brought 
down  by  the  rains ;  and  though  the  action  is  apparently 


CAVERNS.  163 

slight,  and,  indeed,  almost  imperceptible  in  any  moderate 
period  of  time,  it  is  none  the  less  real,  and  it  is  of  vast  im- 
portance in  the  aggregate  amount. 

We  see  the  effects  of  this  action  in  every  old  building, 
though  constructed  of  blocks  of  the  hardest  rock.  The 
stony  surface  becomes  more  or  less  corroded  by  the  action 
of  the  atmosphere,  after  the  lapse  of  time,  so  that  an  old 
building  can  aiways  be  distinguished  from  a  new  one  very 
easily  by  this  means  alone.  The  surface  of  the  rock,  too, 
made  bare  by  railway  cuttings,  or  that  of  boulders  which 
have  long  been  exposed  to  atmospheric  influences,  lose  their 
sharp  edges,  and  become  corroded  and  worn. 

The  effect,  as  one  would  naturally  expect,  is  very  differ- 
ent with  different  kinds  of  rocks,  and  there  are  some  kinds 
that  are  wholly  unfit  for  building  on  this  account.  It  is 
even  supposed  that  the  vast  caverns  which  are  found  ex- 
isting in  various  parts  of  the  earth  have  been,  in  many 
cases,  formed  by  the  dissolving  of  the  rock  through  the 
action  of  acids  brought  in  the  water  percolating  among 
them. 

Some  of  these  caverns — as,  for  example,  the  Mammoth 
Cave  in  Kentucky — are  of  enormous  magnitude,  extend- 
ing sometimes  many  miles  under  ground,  and  containing 
streams  of  water  flowing  through  them,  which  are,  per- 
haps, still  engaged  in  continuing  the  work  of  excavation. 
These  streams  form  lakes,  in  some  cases  so  large  as  to  be 
navigable  for  boats ;  in  other  cases  they  flow  at  the  bot- 
tom of  abysses  which  seem  unfathomable. 

There  is  a  confirmation  of  the  idea  that  these  caverns 
have,  in  some  instances  at  least,  been  formed  by  the  dis- 
solving power  of  slightly  acidulated  water,  continued  for 
immensely  long  periods  of  time,  in  the  fact  that  they  occur 
most  frequently  in  formations  composed  of  exactly  the 
kinds  of  rock,  such  as  limestone  and  the  like,  that,  from 


164 


LECTUKE   IN    A    WAGON. 


the  nature  of  their  chemical  composition,  would  be  most 
susceptible  of  this  kind  of  action. 

Besides,  the  water  percolating  through  strata  of  this 
character  is  known  to  become  so  charged  with  mineral 
matter  which  it  has  taken  up,  that  when  it  issues  into  open 
spaces,  where  the  process  of  evaporation  can  go  on,  it  de- 
posits its  mineral  matter  sometimes  in  icicle -like  forma- 
tions in  enormous  quantities.  These  stalactites — as  they 
are  called  when  they  are  pendant  from  the  roof,  and  sta- 
lagmites when  they  rise  from  the  floor  —  are  sometimes 
wonderful  to  behold.  The  view  in  the  annexed  engraving 
is  from  a  cave  in  Cuba. 


6TALAOTITES   AND   6TALAG 


EXPANSIONS    AND    CONTRACTIONS.  165 

The  time  which  would  be  required  for  making  these 
enormous  excavations  by  means  of  the  solvent  power  of 
water  so  slightly  acidulated,  even  if  greatly  aided  by  the 
mechanical  action  of  it,  almost  transcends  human  concep- 
tion. But  we  are  called  upon,  in  many  cases,  greatly  to 
enlarge  our  ideas  in  regard  to  time,  when  studying  the 
changes  going  on  in  the  structure  and  conformation  of  such 
portions  of  the  earth  as  we  are  able  to  examine. 

It  is,  indeed,  by  no  means  certain  that  all  the  great  cav- 
erns found  beneath  the  ground  have  been  formed  in  this 
way.  All  we  know  is  that  the  process  of  dissolving  cer- 
tain kinds  of  rocks  and  depositing  the  materials  so  taken 
up  in  other  forms  and  in  other  places  is  one  that  is  con- 
tinually going  on  in  a  manner  and  at  a  rate  which  would 
produce  such  results  if  long  enough  continued,  and  it  is 
safe  therefore  to  infer,  at  least,  that  vast  caverns  may  have 
been  formed  in  this  way. 

And  the  same  dissolving  agency,  we  know,  is  acting  in 
a  greater  or  less  degree  upon  the  surfaces  of  all  rocks  ex- 
posed to  the  air,  and  it  aids  very  much  in  the  disintegra- 
tion of  them,  and  in  the  furnishing  to  the  rivers  the  mate- 
rials which  they  require  for  their  work. 

3.  The  next  agency  on  Lawrence's  list  was  the  grinding 
motion  among  the  rocks  resulting  from  alternate  expan- 
sions and  contractions  produced  by  changes  of  tempera- 
ture. Almost  all  known  substances,  and  certainly  all  rocks, 
swell  by  heat  and  contract  by  cold.  The  change  is  imper- 
ceptible in  a  small  specimen  held  in  the  hand,  but  it  is 
none  the  less  real ;  and  the  force  which  this  expanding  ex- 
erts, though  it  acts  in  small  specimens  through  a  very 
small  space,  is  enormously  great. 

We  see  what  is  at  once  a  striking  illustration,  and  also 
a  proof  of  this  action,  in  the  case  of  a  city  sidewalk  formed 
of  slabs  of  stone.  The  sun,  in  summer,  swells  these  stones, 


166  LECTURE    IN   A    WAGON. 

and,  as  the  inner  edge  has  a  firm  bearing  against  the  foun- 
dations of  the  building,  the  edge  next  the  street  is  forced 
outward  a  little.  It  is  only  a  very  little,  however,  the  first 
summer — too  little  to  be  shown,  probably,  except  by  very 
exact  observations  and  measurements;  but  what  is  gain- 
ed is  held,  for  the  travel  over  the  sidewalk,  and  the  rains 
which  fall  upon  it,  fill  the  crevices  with  earth  and  sand,  so 
that  when  the  slabs  shrink  in  the  winter  again  from  the 
cold,  they  can  not  return  perfectly  into  their  former  places, 
and  the  next  summer  they  begin  their  expansion  from  a 
slightly  advanced  position.  Thus,  as  the  outer  edge  moves 
outward  every  summer,  and  can  not  draw  back  in  the 
winter,  the  consequence  is  that,  after  a  series  of  years,  the 
curb-stone,  as  we  see  in  all  old  sidewalks  of  this  kind,  gets 
pushed  outward  till  it  is  ready  to  fall  over  into  the  gutter, 
making  it  necessary  to  take  the  sidewalk  up  and  lay  it  over 
again. 

In  the  case  of  a  brick  sidewalk,  we  often  see  the  results 
of  this  process  in  the  wide  cracks  which,  in  process  of  time, 
are  opened  between  the  bricks.  Each  brick  crowds  away 
its  neighbors,  which  are,  at  first,  in  direct  contact  with  it ; 
but  when  it  shrinks  back  to  its  former  dimensions  it  opens 
cracks  around  it  which  the  sand  soon  fills  up,  and  gives 
the  brick  power  to  push  its  neighbors  off  still  farther  the 
next  time.  The  change  is  imperceptible  for  a  while,  but 
after  several  years  it  becomes  sometimes  very  great. 

Now  the  whole  surface  of  the  earth,  or,  at  least,  very 
large  portions  of  it,  consists  of  strata  of  rock  lying  on  or 
near  the  top  of  the  ground,  and  all  those  which  are  near 
enough  to  it  to  be  affected  by  the  changes  of  the  seasons, 
and  especially  those  that  form  mountain  sides  or  steep  de- 
clivities in  the  regions  where  rivers  take  their  rise,  are  con- 
tinually swelling  and  shrinking  in  this  way,  and,  as  there 
is  no  curb-stone  bounding  them  on  one  side  to  be  pushed 


FISSURES    OPENED.  167 

over  and  made  to  give  them  room,  the  different  portions 
crowd  with  irresistible  force  against  each  other,  and  innu- 
merable bulgings,  and  cracks,  and  fissures,  and  grinding 
motions  in  the  joints  are  the  results.  These  motions  are 
so  extremely  slow  that  we  have  no  sensible  evidence  of 
their  existence  except  by  the  results ;  but  the  results  are 
obvious  every  where  in  the  cracked  and  broken  condition 
of  ledges  of  rocks  exposed  to  the  weather.  In  quarries, 
good  solid  rock  can  only  be  found  by  going  down  some 
distance  below  the  surface,  that  lying  near  the  surface  be- 
ing found  split  and  fissured  in  every  direction,  an  effect 
which  is,  in  a  great  measure,  due  to  the  operation  of  this 
cause ;  and  in  some  places,  where,  from  the  peculiar  con- 
formation of  the  rocks,  and  the  manner  in  which  the  differ- 
ent portions  are  exposed  to  the  sun,  the  resulting  expan- 
sions concentrate  their  effects  in  a  particular  area,  vast 
masses  of  rock  are  broken  up  into  angular  fragments, 
which  are  kept  grinding  slowly  together  by  the  changes 
of  every  year.  We  often  see  examples  of  this  in  ascend- 
ing mountains,  the  whole  ground  seeming  to  consist,  in 
some  places,  of  irregular  angular  fragments  packed  close- 
ly but  irregularly  together. 

From  the  fissures  thus  formed,  and  from  the  abrasions 
produced  by  their  continual,  though  extremely  slow  grind- 
ing against  each  other,  as  they  are  alternately  heated  and 
cooled,  the  rivers  derive  vast  aid  in  their  work  of  breaking 
up  and  wearing  away  the  mountains  and  rocks,  and  trans- 
porting the  materials  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

When  Lawrence  reached  this  point  in  his  lecture,  he  said, 
speaking  still  in  a  tone  as  if  he  were  addressing  a  regular 
audience, 

"  There  will  now  be  an  intermission  of  fifteen  minutes 
for  conversation  and  refreshments." 

So  saying,  he  drew  out  from  under  the  seat  a  small  bas- 


168  LECTUBE    IN    A   WAGON. 

ket  containing  some  very  nice  apples  and  pears  which  he 
had  privately  provided  for  the  excursion.  John  drew  a 
long  breath,  as  if  glad  to  rest  a  few  minutes,  though  he 
had  been  very  much  interested  in  what  Lawrence  had  been 
explaining  to  him.  When  he  saw  the  apples  and  pears  his 
face  beamed  with  delight,  and  he  and  Lawrence  began  at 
once  to  devote  themselves  to  "  conversation  and  refresh- 
meats." 


FKOST.  169 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    BEST    OF   THE   LECTURE. 

THE  ram  stopped,  too,  about  this  time,  and  the  clouds 
gave  some  signs  of  breaking  away.  Indeed,  the  appear- 
ances were  for  a  time  so  promising  that  John  was  half  in- 
clined to  propose  that  they  should  resume  their  work  of 
collecting  specimens.  But  Lawrence  said  that  the  ground 
would  be  wet,  and  it  would,  consequently,  be  uncomforta- 
ble for  them  to  continue  their  explorations,  and  he  thought 
that  the  best  plan  for  them  would  be  to  continue  their  jour- 
ney toward  home,  and,  in  the  mean  time,  to  go  on  with  the 
lecture. 

And  so,  after  a  sufficient  number  of  apples  and  pears  had 
been  disposed  of,  he  resumed  his  discourse,  beginning  with 
the  fourth  head  of  it. 

4.  The  fourth  head  of  Lawrence's  discoui-se  related  to 
the  effect  of  frost  in  aiding  the  rivers  to  obtain  their  sup- 
plies of  materials.  The  frost,  in  all  the  countries  in  the 
world  except  those  which  are  within  or  near  the  tropics, 
acts,  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year,  at  the  ordinary  level 
of  the  ground,  and  even  in  the  warmest  regions  it  acts 
upon  the  higher  slopes  of  the  mountains,  where  the  springs 
and  streams,  and  other  affluents  of  the  rivers,  take  their  rise. 

The  frost  acts  both  upon  the  rocks  and  upon  the  soil. 
By  its  expansive  force  in  the  soil  it  causes  it  to  rise  and 
swell,  and  leaves  it,  when  thawed  again,  in  a  loose  and  light 
condition,  which  makes  it  very  easy  for  the  rains,  and  the 
streams  of  running  water  coming  from  the  rain,  to  bear  it 
away.  How  soft  the  mud  is  in  the  roads  in  the  spring  as 
H 


170  T11E    BEST    OF    THE    LECTURE. 

the  frost  melts  out,  and  before  the  earthy  materials  have 
become  consolidated.  The  same  softness  in  the  soil  ex- 
tends over  all  the  fields,  so  that  cattle  walking  over  them 
sink  in  and  make  ugly  holes  in  the  turf.  Posts  are  often 
raised  a  little  every  year  by  this  expansive  force,  and  stone 
walls  are  lifted  a  little  every  winter,  and  let  down  again 
in  the  spring ;  but  the  stones  being  deranged  somewhat  in 
position  at  every  change,  and  so  never  returning  again  into 
precisely  the  same  place,  the  wall  in  process  of  time  be- 
comes bent  and  distorted,  and  ends  at  last  with  tumbling 
down. 

The  loosening  effect  of  the  frost  over  the  whole  surface 
of  the  country  has  thus  a  great  effect  in  aiding  the  running 
water  from  the  rains  in  conveying  vast  portions  of  the  soil 
of  every  country  into  the  nearest  rivers,  and  so  adding  to 
their  supplies  of  material. 

The  effect  is  even  still  greater,  perhaps,  among  rocks  and 
mountains.  The  water  insinuates  itself  into  the  crevices 
and  fissures  which  are  produced  by  the  expansion  and  con- 
traction of  the  rocks,  as  explained  under  the  last  head,  and 
there  freezing,  the  expanding  force  widens  and  extends 
the  cracks,  and,  in  the  end,  forces  outward  masses  of  the 
rock — and  sometimes  masses  of  immense  magnitude — till 
they  topple  over  and  fall  down  into  the  valley  below. 
Portions  of  them  are  ground  to  powder  as  they  fall,  or  as 
they  slide  down  the  slopes  of  the  mountain  side,  where 
they  lie  in  the  most  favorable  position  possible  for  being 
carried  farther  down,  on  their  way  to  the  rivers,  by  the  de- 
scending condensations  from  the  clouds,  whether  coming  in 
the  form  of  torrents,  or  rain,  or  avalanches  of  snow  sweep- 
ing down  the  mountain  sides. 

It  is  easy  to  conceive  that  the  aid  which  the  power  of  the 
frost  renders,  in  these  and  other  analogous  ways,  in  furnish- 
ing the  rivers  with  supplies  of  materials  for  their  work. 


FISSURES. 


171 


when  we  consider  the  amount  of  effect  produced  by  this 
cause  in  its  action  over  a  whole  continent,  must  lead  to  re- 
sults of  enormous  magnitude  and  extent. 

The  effect  of  all  these  disintegrating  agencies,  and  espe- 
cially those  of  the  frost,  is  greatly  aided  by  the  tendency 
of  many  rocks,  owing  to  some  mysterious  causes  connect- 
ed with  the  mode  of  their  formation,  to  open  fissures  in 
certain  definite  directions.  In  many  cases  these  seams  are 
vertical,  and  the  rocks,  in  being  broken  down,  form  per- 
pendicular cliffs,  and  steep  precipices,  and  vast  chasms, 
which  greatly  facilitate  the  subsequent  processes  of  de- 
struction. 


172  THE  BEST  OF  THE  LECTURE. 

5.  Then,  besides  the  effect  produced  by  the  expansive 
force  of  water  in  repose  congealing  in  the  crevices  of  rocks 
and  in  the  pores  and  interstices  of  soil,  which  we  call  frost, 
there  is  the  action  of  masses  of  ice  in  motion,  which  in  va- 
rious ways  aid  the  rivers  very  greatly  in  their  work  of 
abrading  and  bearing  away  rocks  and  soils.  The  effects 
which  moving  ice  produces  may,  perhaps,  not  be  so  great 
in  amount,  but  they  are  far  more  picturesque  and  striking 
in  appearance  and  character  than  those  produced  by  the 
action  of  frost,  which  is  much  more  quiet,  and  mainly  un- 
seen. 

The  most  striking  and  extraordinary  of  the  forms  of 
moving  ice  are  the  glaciers,  which  are  solid  rivers  of  ice, 
flowing  at  a  slow  but  steady  rate  of  motion. 

These  glaciers  are  formed  from  the  mingled  snow  and 
rain  which  fall  upon  the  summits  and  sides  of  mountains, 
where  the  mountains  rise  into  regions  so  cold  that  the 
snow,  not  melting  so  fast  as  it  falls,  accumulates  from  year 
to  year,  and  so,  by  the  vast  weight  of  the  immense  masses 
of  it,  crowds  down  by  a  slow  motion  into  the  ravines  ex- 
tending down  the  mountain  sides.  Here,  by  the  great 
pressure  of  the  superincumbent  weight,  and  by  the  action 
of  some  other  causes,  it  becomes  so  consolidated  as  to  form 
perfectly  pure  blue  ice — in  some  cases  many  hundreds  of 
feet  thick — and,  though  so  solid  to  all  appearance,  it  con- 
tinues, wonderful  as  it  may  seem,  slowly  to  move  along  the 
valley,  forming,  in  many  cases,  literally  a  river  of  ice  sev- 
eral miles  wide,  and  twenty  or  thirty  miles  long. 

The  motion  is  very  slow,  its  progress  being  often  not 
more  than  a  foot  in  twenty -four  hours,  though  varying 
greatly  according  to  the  different  circumstances  of  each 
case.  But,  though  the  immense  mass  advances  slowly,  it 
moves  with  irresistible  force.  It  undermines  and  wears 
away  the  rocks  along  its  banks,  and  vast  masses  fall  upon 


GLACIERS. 


173 


it  from  the  precipices  above,  and  these  rocks  are  borne 
along  upon  its  surface  until  at  last,  after  the  lapse  of  many 
years,  they  are  tumbled  off  in  confused  heaps  at  the  lower 
end,  where  the  glacier  terminates  in  the  warm  valley  below. 


WSTANT  VIEW   OF   A    GLACtF.U. 


From  these  lower  ends  of  the  glacier  large  torrents  of 
turbid  water  are  constantly  issuing.  These  torrents  are 
formed  from  the  countless  streams  which  are  all  the  time 
flowing  over  the  surface  of  the  ice  and  snow,  and  trickling 
down  through  the  fissures  and  crevasses  to  the  bed  below, 
and  which  come  out  at  last  in  the  valley,  loaded  with  the 
pulverized  rocks  which  the  glacier  grinds  up  for  them  on 
its  way. 


174  THE  REST  OF  THE  LECTURE. 

Thus  the  glacier  bears  massive  and  solid  rocks  upon  its 
surface,  and  mud  formed  of  pulverized  rocks  in  its  outlets 
in  the  valley.  There  is  something  very  curious  in  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  large  masses  of  rock  are  borne  onwai'd. 
When,  in  the  course  of  years,  they  have  advanced  far 
enough  to  enter  the  warmer  regions,  where  the  ice  around 
them  is  melted  by  the  sun,  they  protect  the  portion  which 
they  rest  upon,  and  so  are  seen  riding  at  last  on  the  top 
of  a  boss,  like  a  monument  of  rock  upon  a  pedestal  of  ice. 
After  a  time,  the  ice  melting  more  upon  one  side  than  upon 
the  other,  the  rock  slides  off,  takes  a  new  position,  and,  by 
protecting  a  new  portion  of  the  mass,  in  the  course  of  years 
forms  for  itself  a  new  pedestal,  and  so  onward  till  it  comes 
to  its  final  plunge  into  the  heap  of  broken  stones  which  lie 
about  the  terminus  of  the  glacier. 

The  amount  of  work  accomplished  by  the  innumerable 
glaciers  that  are  thus  grinding  their  way  slowly,  but  inces- 
santly and  irresistibly  down,  among  all  the  lofty  ranges 
of  mountains  in  the  world,  in  demolishing  the  mountains 
themselves,  and  in  supplying  the  rivers  which  flow  from 
them  with  materials  to  be  conveyed  to  lower  lands  and  to 
the  sea,  is  inconceivably  great. 

Then  there  is  another  entirely  different  form  of  ice  ac- 
tion by  Avhich  rivers  are  aided  in  their  work,  and  that  is 
by  the  cakes  formed  by  the  freezing  of  the  surfaces  of  riv- 
ers during  the  winter,  and  the  subsequent  breaking  up  of 
the  formation  in  the  spring,  when  the  whole  mass  is  borne 
onward  down  the  stream  with  great  force,  grinding  against 
the  banks,  and  thus  widening  the  channel,  and  deepening 
it  where  the  water  is  shallow.  Where  the  ice  is  formed  in 
shallow  places  it  extends  to  the  bottom,  and  sometimes  in- 
closes and  holds  securely  masses  of  pebbles  and  gravel, 
and  sometimes  rocks  of  considerable  size,  which  are  often 
buoyed  up  and  floated  away,  and  deposited  upon  meadows 


ACTION   OF   ICE.  177 

below,  in  places  where  the  water  alone  could  not  have  con- 
veyed them. 

The  moving  masses  of  ice,  too,  sometimes  become  jam- 
med, and  form  temporary  dams,  by  which  the  water  far- 
ther up  the  sti'eam  is  raised  sometimes  many  feet  above 
the  proper  level,  and  then,  when  the  jam  gives  way,  the 
accumulated  mass  of  water  rushes  onward  with  extraor- 
dinary force,  sweeping  all  before  it — its  power  of  taking 
up  and  transporting  the  materials  in  its  way  being  vastly 
increased  by  the  effect  of  the  temporary  obstruction. 

Thus  there  are  two  distinct  modes  by  which  ice  forma- 
tions aid  in  the  disintegration  and  abrasion  of  rocks,  and 
in  the  conveyance  of  the  materials  thus  produced  into  the 
course  and  along  the  channels  of  rivers — the  action  of  gla- 
ciers in  grinding  their  way  slowly  down  through  mountain 
valleys  at  the  sources  of  the  rivers,  and  that  of  floating 
cakes  of  ice  along  their  channels. 

The  action  of  glaciers,  though  a  large  portion  of  these 
formations  occur  in  situations  more  or  less  inaccessible  to 
man,  and  so,  in  a  measure,  hidden  from  observation,  is  very 
great,  and  the  effects  which  seem  to  have  been  produced 
by  such  action  in  former  times,  in  places  where  glaciers 
now  no  longer  exist,  are  of  enormous  magnitude  and  ex- 
tent. These  effects  consist  of  such  heaps  of  gravel  and 
earth  as  glaciers  often  crowd  before  them,  and  of  masses 
of  rock  tumbled  confusedly  together,  or  left  lying  by  them- 
selves in  the  valley  or  on  the  plain,  in  situations  precisely 
similar  to  those  in  which  the  glaciers  that  still  exist  throw 
down  at  last  the  rocks  and  stones  which  they  bring  with 
them  from  the  mountains  above. 

Detached  rocks  of  this  kind  are  found  scattered  over 

the  surface  of  the  ground  in  all  the  northern  portions  of 

the  United  States,  and,  indeed,  in  almost  all  those  parts  of 

the  world  where  glaciers  may  be   supposed  formerly  to 

H2 


178  THE  BEST  OF  THE  LECTURE. 

have  existed.  And  inasmuch  as  in  all  such  regions  marks 
of  glacier  action  is  observed  in  the  smoothing  of  the  upper 
surfaces  of  rocks  in  places,  and  in  other  indications,  and  as 
the  places  where  the  erratic  blocks  —  as  these  detached 
rocks  are  called — or  boulders  may  have  been  brought  from 
can  often  be  found,  it  is  the  general  belief  that  they  have 
all  been  brought  to  their  present  resting-place  by  glacier 
action  in  some  former  age. 

Some  of  these  erratic  blocks  are  of  enormous  size.  There 
is  one  in  a  valley  in  Switzerland  large  enough  to  have  a 
house  built  upon  the  top  of  it,  with  a  garden  and  trees, 
though  the  garden  is  in  part  sustained  by  a  wall. 

Among  the  infinite  variety  of  forms  which  these  boul- 
ders, as  they  are  generally  called,  assume,  they  sometimes 
present  fancied  resemblances  to  natural  objects,  from  which 
the  common  people  who  live  near  them  often  give  them  a 
name.  Here,  for  example,  is  an  engraving  of  one  found  on 
the  island  of  Martha's  Vineyard,  and  known  there  as  Toad 
Rock. 

In  observing  these  detached  rocks  lying  loose  upon  the 


VEGETATION".  181 

ground  in  various  parts  of  the  country,  and  far  from  any 
ledge,  people  who  know  little  of  the  transporting  power 
of  ice,  and  stillness  of  the  possibility  that  glaciers  or  ice- 
bergs can  ever  have  been  in  action  in  the  places  where  the 
boulders  are  found,  often  wonder  how  they  could  possibly 
have  been  brought  there. 

6.  The  sixth  and  last  of  the  sources  from  which  the  riv- 
ers derive  the  materials  for  their  work,  which  Lawrence 
enumerated  in  his  lecture,  was  vegetation.  One  might  be 
at  first  somewhat  at  a  loss  to  understand  how  any  aid  for 
the  rivers  could  be  obtained  from  this  source ;  but  the  truth 
is  that  a  very  considerable  portion  of  the  solid  matter  of 
which  plants  are  composed  is  derived  from  the  atmosphere. 
This  solid  matter  consists  almost  exclusively  of  different 
compounds  of  hydrogen  and  carbon ;  and  while  some  por- 
tions of  these  elements  may  come  up  through  the  roots 
from  the  ground,  a  much  larger  portion  is  drawn  by  the 
leaves  from  the  air;  and  then,  when  the  plants,  or  portions 
of  them,  die  and  decay,  the  solid  substances  find  their  way 
by  various  means  into  the  streams,  and  help  to  form  the 
mass  of  material  which  the  rivers  bear  away  and  deposit 
as  sediment  in  the  process  of  building  up  intervales  and 
meadows  along  their  course  below,  or  in  the  formation  of 
new  strata  over  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

But  the  aid  furnished  by  processes  of  vegetation  going 
on  over  the  country  traversed  by  running  streams  is  not 
confined  to  the  vegetable  substances  themselves  which 
they  supply ;  they  assist  the  water  in  very  curious  and  re- 
markable ways  in  disintegrating  and  abrading  their  banks, 
and  thus  in  greatly  increasing  the  supply  of  mineral  mat- 
ter to  be  carried  down.  They  do  this  by  forming  tempo- 
rary obstructions  and  dams  along  the  courses  of  streams, 
by  means  of  which  the  water  is  raised  and  its  force  accu- 
mulated, so  that,  at  length,  as  in  the  case  of  ice-dams,  when 


182  THE  REST  OF  THE  LECTURE. 

the  obstructions  give  way,  the  water  flows  with  greatly  in- 
creased impetuosity,  and  exerts,  consequently,  much  great- 
er power  in  undermining  and  wearing  away  the  banks,  and 
in  carrying  forward  the  sand  and  gravel  that  lie  upon  the 
bottom. 

These  obstructions  are  continually  being  formed,  and  aft- 
erward overborne  and  carried  away  upon  all  streams,  es- 
pecially upon  those  flowing  through  forest  lands ;  and, 
though  in  an  individual  case  the  effect  may  be  inconsider- 
able, the  aggregate,  as  affecting  the  action  of  water  over  a 
whole  continent,  is  enormous. 

And  in  the  case  of  some  large  rivers,  as,  for  instance, 
the  Mississippi  and  the  Ganges,  the  effect  in  particular  in- 
stances is  inconceivably  great.  The  quantity  of  floating 
trees  and  brushwood  brought  down  by  such  rivers  sur- 
passes all  conception.  Some  statements  of  facts,  giving  an 
idea  of  the  magnitude  of  the  effects  produced  by  these 
agencies  in  particular  cases,  will  be  given  in  the  next 
chapter. 

As  Lawrence  and  John  rode  on  in  this  way,  the  formal- 
ity of  the  lecture  being  often  interrupted  and  relieved  by 
familiar  conversation  on  the  subjects  brought  under  dis- 
cussion, the  weather  brightened  up  more  and  more,  and 
though  the  road  continued  to  be  wet,  and  the  grass  and 
trees  on  each  side  were  loaded  with  drops  of  water,  the 
track  itself  was  hard,  and  the  horse  trotted  along  merrily, 
animated  by  the  thought  that  he  was  drawing  nearer  and 
nearer  toward  his  stall  in  the  barn  at  home,  where  he  pic- 
tured to  his  imagination,  as  I  suppose,  a  manger  well  filled 
with  sweet-scented  hay. 

The  road  followed,  in  general,  the  course  of  the  stream, 
and  as  the  country  through  which  it  lay  was  very  pictur- 
esque, and  pi-esented,  as  the  horse  took  them  rapidly  along 
the  windings  of  the  road,  a  never-ending  succession  of 


STRATA    EXPOSED    TO    VIEW. 


183 


pretty  views — farms  and  farm-houses,  green  fields,  wooded 
hill-sides,  and  wide,  opening  valleys  —  every  turn  in  the 
road  opening  a  new  and  charming  prospect,  they  both  en- 
joyed the  ride  very  much,  notwithstanding  the  incomplete 
success  of  the  expedition  in  a  geological  point  of  view. 

At  one  place  on  the  road,  where  the  stream — which  here 
had  become  almost  large  enough  to  be  called  a  river — was 
on  one  side,  and  a  long,  high  bank  on  the  other,  Lawrence 
called  upon  John,  who  was  driving,  to  stop  a  moment  and 
look  at  the  bank.  The  bank  had  been  formed  by  cutting 
away  the  earth  on  that  side  to  give  sufficient  width  to  the 


WATEB-WOKK. 


184  THE  REST  OF  THE  LECTURE. 

road,  and  it  brought  to  view  a  succession  of  different  stra- 
ta of  gravel  and  sand. 

"  There !"  said  Lawrence,  as  soon  as  the  horse  had  stop- 
ped, "  look  at  this  bank.  Here  is  an  excellent  opportu- 
nity for  us  to  observe  the  difference  between  water- work 
and  ice- work." 

There  is,  indeed,  a  remarkable  difference  in  the  manner 
in  which  water  and  ice  respectively  deposit  the  debris  of 
rocks  and  earth  which  they  transport  from  place  to  place, 
and  ultimately  lay  down.  The  general  principle  is  this,  that 
moving  water  has  the  power  of  sorting  and  arranging,  as 
it  were,  the  materials  which  it  transports,  according  to  the 
size  and  weight  of  the  substances  composing  it,  and  laying 
them  down,  evenly  and  regularly,  in  parallel  beds  called 
strata,  here  a  stratum  of  coarse  pebbles,  in  another  one  of 
sand,  and  in  another  still  one  of  soft  mud,  each  different 
kind  of  material  being  deposited  by  itself  in  its  own  place ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  moving  ice  crowds  and  jams  all 
the  materials  which  it  brings  confusedly  together,  and  de- 
posits the  whole — rocks,  stones,  gravel,  and  mud — in  vast 
ridges  and  heaps,  which  exhibit  no  marks  of  arrangement 
in  their  structure,  but  present  to  the  observer  only  masses 
of  confusion. 

The  power  of  water  to  separate  and  arrange  the  differ- 
ent materials  which  it  bears  along  with  it  depends  upon 
the  more  rapid  subsidence  of  the  larger  and  coarser  mate- 
rials than  that  of  the  finer  ones.  Thus,  where  the  water 
flows  swiftly,  it  leaves  only  stones  and  pebbles,  but  carries 
all  the  finer  materials  farther  onward  ;  where  the  current 
becomes  somewhat  more  gentle,  it  leaves  the  coarse  sand 
behind,  and  only  carries  on  the  finer  particles,  which,  when 
they,  too,  are  at  last  deposited  in  places  where  the  water 
has  become  almost  still,  form  layers  of  mud  or  of  clay. 

Now,  inasmuch   as   through  the   operation  of  various 


DEPOSITION   FROM   WATER.  185 

causes  the  condition  of  a  current  of  water  flowing  over 
any  area  and  depositing  its  materials  upon  it  changes  very 
ranch  at  different  seasons  of  the  year,  and  especially  in  dif- 
ferent periods  in  the  history  of  the  river,  it  often  happens, 
of  course,  that  several  successive  strata,  formed,  some  of 
coarser  and  some  of  finer  materials,  are  often  deposited 
over  each  other  in  the  same  spot.  Sometimes,  when  the 
causes  producing  these  changes  act  slowly,  so  as  to  con- 
tinue substantially  the  same  state  of  things  for  long  pe- 
riods, very  thick  strata  are  deposited.  At  other  times  the 
different  strata  are  thin,  so  that  several  of  them  are  some- 
times comprised  within  a  space  of  a  few  feet.  It  was  such 
a  succession  of  thin  strata  as  this  that  Lawrence  and  John 
stopped  to  see  in  the  bank  by  the  road-side.  They  had 
been  deposited,  it  seems,  at  some  very  remote  period  — 
probably  by  the  same  river  which  was  still  flowing  through 
the  valley,  but  at  a  time  when  its  waters  were  at  a  much 
higher  level  than  they  occupied  at  the  time  of  Lawrence's 
visit  to  the  spot — and  had  remained  concealed  and  undis- 
turbed until  they  were  brought  to  view  by  the  excava- 
tions that  became  necessary  for  the  construction  of  the 
road. 

There  is  another  characteristic  of  deposits  made  by  wa- 
ter, whether  that  of  rivers  or  of  the  sea,  and  that  is,  that 
the  stones  and  pebbles  which  they  contain  are  almost  al- 
ways rounded  and  made  smooth  by  being  rolled  over  and 
over,  and  ground  together,  until  all  their  angularities  and 
roughnesses  are  worn  off  before  they  reach  their  final  rest- 
ing-place. On  the  other  hand,  the  broken  fragments  which 
are  formed  and  moved  onward  by  ice  are  left  generally 
in  their  original  rough  and  angular  condition,  being  pushed 
forward  in  a  mass  of  mud  together,  or  borne  onward  on 
the  surface  of  a  glacier,  in  blocks  of  every  conceivable 
shape  and  size,  and  finally  tumbled  over  in  a  confused  mass 


186  THE  REST  OF  THE  LECTURE. 

where  the  glacier  terminates  in  a  valley.  These  masses  of 
detritus  lie  in  ridges  and  heaps  just  as  the  ice  leaves  them, 
mud,  sand,  gravel,  and  rocks  all  mingled  together  in  con- 
fusion. 

Such  accumulations  as  these  are  found  in  all  countries 
where  glaciers  now  exist,  as  in  Switzerland,  for  example, 
some  being  now  in  process  of  formation,  and  others — which 
were  formed  in  ancient  times  —  covered  with  grass  and 
trees,  and  appearing  like  simple  hillocks.  But  when  these 
last  are  cut  through  in  the  making  of  roads  or  on  other 
occasions,  they  show  the  same  condition  of  things  as  that 
which  is  observed  in  the  ice  deposits  which  existing  gla- 
ciers are  now  continually  forming,  and  so  it  is  inferred  that 
they  were  produced  in  the  same  way. 

Now  it  is  very  remarkable  that,  in  various  parts  of  the 
world,  ridges  and  mounds  composed  of  coarse,  sharp  stones, 
mingled  with  hardened  mud  and  gravel,  and  also  multi- 
tudes of  scattered  stones  lying  loose  upon  the  surface,  are 
found,  which  present  precisely  the  appearance  of  the  de- 
posits formed  by  moving  ice,  and  yet  they  are  in  places 
where,  at  the  present  day,  no  glaciers  or  moving  ice  in  any 
form  exist.  Such  formations  are,  however,  always  found  in 
regions  where  glaciers  might  have  existed  in  former  ages. 
That  is  to  say,  there  are  causes  now  in  operation  in  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  earth,  such  that,  if  the  places  in  question 
had  been  affected  by  similar  causes  for  a  long  enough  pe- 
riod, they  would  fully  account  for  the  existence  of  glaciers 
and  moving  ice  in  them.  This  is  very  strikingly  the  case 
with  all  the  northern  portion  of  the  United  States.  The 
ground  in  this  region  is  often  formed  of  ridges  and  mounds 
of  gravel  and  broken  stones,  and  the  surface  is  covered  with 
boulders  or  erratic  blocks,  that  is,  with  detached  rocks  of 
various  sizes  and  forms,  but  evidently  not  water-worn,  and 
which,  as  appears  by  comparison  of  the  structure  and  com- 


A    BOULDER.  187 

position  of  them,  to  have  been  brought  from  cliffs  or  ledges 
many  miles  distant  from  the  places  where  they  now  lie. 

Lawrence  stopped  two  or  three  times,  as  they  continued 
their  journey  toward  home,  to  call  John's  attention  to  some 
examples  of  these  supposed  results  of  glacier  action.  In 
one  case  there  was  a  steep  bank,  which  consisted  of  a  mass 
of  earth,  rocks,  and  gravel,  mingled  so  confusedly  together 
that  it  seemed  impossible  that  they  could  have  been  de- 
posited by  running  water.  In  another,  where  the  road  was 
passing  through  a  wood,  almost  the  whole  surface  of  the 
ground  seemed  to  be  formed  of  rocks  lying  together  in 
confusion,  a  great  portion  of  them,  however,  being  cov- 
ered and  partially  concealed  by  mosses,  and  brakes,  and 
other  vegetation,  though  the  fractured  and  angular  out- 
lines of  their  forms  were  plainly  visible. 

"  They  don't  clear  this  land,  I  suppose,"  said  Lawrence, 
"  because  they  think  it  is  too  stony  to  be  cultivated.  And 
see !  the  land  lies  in  hillocks  and  ridges,  which  are  the 
shapes  in  which  glaciers  always  leave  the  masses  of  debris 
which  they  crowd  before  them." 

In  another  place  Lawrence  called  John's  attention  to  an 
immense  block  of  granite  which  lay  in  a  field  not  far  from 
the  road. 

"It  is  as  big  as  a  small  house,"  said  John. 

"TE  is  as  big  as  a  pig-pen,  at  any  rate,"  said  Lawrence. 

"Well,"  said  John,  "  a  pig-pen  is  a  kind  of  a  house.  It 
is  a  house  for  a  pig.  But  do  you  really  believe  that  block 
was  brought  here  by  ice  ?" 

"  All  we  can  say,"  replied  Lawrence, "  is  that  ice  is  at 
the  present  day,  in  various  parts  of  the  world,  conveying 
just  such  blocks,  and  leaving  them  in  just  such  places,  and 
in  making  just  such  heaps  of  gravel  and  mud  as  we  have 
seen.  A  large  portion  of  the  northern  part  of  the  United 
States  is  covered  in  various  places  with  just  such  forma- 


188  THE  BEST  OF  THE  LECTURE. 

tions,  and,  in  general,  the  cliffs  and  ledges  from  which  the 
materials  may  have  come,  judging  from  the  structure  and 
character  of  the  stone,  can  be  found  at  a  distance  from 
them,  and  at  a  higher  level ;  and,  in  almost  all  cases,  the 
upper  surfaces  of  all  the  hills  of  solid  rock  on  the  way  are 
smoothed,  and  somewhat  flattened,  as  if  by  the  long-con- 
tinued action  of  ice  moving  over  them.  Moving  ice  is 
abundantly  capable  of  producing  all  these  effects,  and  it  is 
now  actually  producing  them  in  various  parts  of  the  world, 
and  we  know  of  no  other  possible  agency  that  could  have 
produced  them  here. 

As  they  drew  near  home  toward  the  end  of  the  ride, 
Lawrence  subjected  John  to  a  very  strict  examination  on 
the  lecture  which  he  had  delivered,  and  John  bore  the  ex- 
amination so  well  that  Lawrence  said  he  deserved  the  prize, 
and  he  gave  it  to  him  the  next  day.  This  prize  was  a  copy 
of  the  STUDENT'S  GEOLOGY,  which  gave  an  account,  in  some 
detail,  of  the  structure  of  the  various  formations  found  upon 
the  earth's  surface,  with  many  engravings  illustrating  the 
position  and  character  of  the  different  strata,  and  the  forms 
of  the  curious  fossils  found  in  them. 


MEASUREMENTS.  189 


CHAPTER  XVHL 

GREAT   RESULTS. 

WHEN  we  come  to  consider  the  immense  extent  of  sur- 
face which  a  river,  with  all  its  branches,  and  its  thousands 
of  tributary  brooks,  and  rivulets,  and  rills,  drains,  and  the 
vast  number  of  different  agencies  which  are  constantly  em- 
ployed, as  shown  in  the  last  chapter,  in  disintegrating  and 
carrying  into  it  the  various  substances  which  form  the  sur- 
face of  the  land,  it  would  seem,  at  first  thought,  to  be  ut- 
terly impossible  to  make  any  measurement,  or  even  any 
approximate  conjecture,  of  the  total  amount  thus  removed 
in  any  given  period.  But  very  intricate  and  very  closely 
concealed  must  be  the  phenomena  which  can  escape  the 
patience  and  the  ingenuity  of  the  researches  made  by  sci- 
entific men.  The  quantity  of  solid  matter  annually  gath- 
ered by  certain  rivers,  such  as  the  Mississippi,  for  example, 
from  over  the  whole  of  the  immense  basins  that  they  drain, 
and  carried  off  by  the  current  into  the  sea,  has  been  meas- 
ured and  determined  with  a  very  considerable  degree  of 
accuracy. 

The  methods  adopted  in  making  these  measurements, 
and  the  principles  on  which  the  methods  are  founded,  were 
explained  to  John  and  some  other  young  persons  on  one 
occasion  when  a  party  of  them  went  to  take  a  walk  along 
a  certain  road,  after  a  powerful  rain,  to  see  a  freshet  in  a 
large  brook  called  the  Morningside  Brook,  which  flowed 
down  through  a  deep  ravine  or  valley  through  the  Morn- 
ingside grounds.  There  was  a  place  near  where  this  brook 
issued  from  the  Morningside  grounds  where  there  was  a 
very  pretty  series  of  cascades,  with  some  seats  near  them, 


190  GREAT   RESULTS. 

placed  there  on  purpose  for  the  use  of  visitors  who  were 
accustomed  to  come  to  the  spot  and  view  the  cascades 
when  the  water  was  high. 

Lawrence  and  John  were  sitting,  with  some  other  young 
persons — Dorrie  being  among  them — upon  one  of  these 
seats,  looking  at  the  cataracts  ofwrater  which  were  pour- 
ing down  over  the  rocks  at  the  time  in  great  volume  and 
with  the  utmost  impetuosity.* 

"  It  is  very  pretty,"  said  Dorrie,  "  but  it  would  be  pret- 
tier still  if  the  water  was  clear.  The  foam  is  white  enough, 
but  the  water  is  very  muddy." 

The  water  was,  indeed,  extremely  turbid. 

Lawrence  said  that  a  clear  stream  was  certainly  more 
beautiful,  in  itself  considered,  than  a  muddy  one,  but  that 
there  was,  nevertheless,  a  certain  interest  in  the  very  mud- 
diness  of  the  flow  of  a  torrent  like  this,  since  this  muddi- 
ness  gives  significance  to  the  phenomenon,  by  presenting 
it  to  our  minds  as  a  part  of  one  of  the  grandest  processes 
of  nature,  and  one  that  is  all  the  time  going  on,  and  is  pro- 
ducing vast  changes  in  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Lawrence  then  went  on  to  give  some  account  to  Dorrie, 
and  one  or  two  others  who  sat  or  stood  near  him  listening, 
of  what  he  said  in  his  lecture  to  John,  though,  of  Course, 
in  a  much  more  brief  and  summary  manner,  in  respect  to 
the  various  modes  by  which  the  materials  forming  the  sub- 
stance of  the  ground  were  abraded  and  carried  off  into  the 
rivers,  and  by  the  rivers  into  the  sea ;  and  explained  to 
them  that,  in  the  turbidness  of  the  torrent  before  them, 
they  could  see  the  process  actually  going  on. 

All  that  muddiness,  he  said,  came  from  the  abrasion  of 

the  rocks  and  the  wearing  away  of  the  ground  farther  up 

the  stream.    Dorrie  and  the  others  thought  that  the  amount 

that  was  carried  away  in  that  manner  must  be  very  little 

*  See  Frontispiece. 


DOERIE  S   PLAN.  191 

— far  too  little  to  produce  any  sensible  effect.  But  Law- 
rence replied  that,  though  the  quantity  that  was  passing 
at  any  one  time  might  seem  to  be  inconsiderable,  it  was 
really  much  greater  than  it  seemed,  and  the  process,  in  be- 
ing continued  for  immensely  long  periods  of  time,  would 
produce  vast  results.  "If  we  were  to  follow  this  brook  up 
through  the  grounds  ofMorningside,"  he  said,  "and  so  on- 
ward to  its  sources,  we  should  find  many  deep  ravines,  and 
perhaps  sometimes  quite  broad  valleys,  which  have  been 
formed  by  its  abrading  action." 

"  Let's  go  some  day,"  said  Dorrie,  eagerly.  "  We'll  form 
a  party  and  go ;  it  will  be  a  fine  excursion  for  us." 

Lawrence  acceded  at  once  to  this  proposal.  "  It  would 
be  a  very  instructive  geological  excursion,"  he  said, "  to 
follow  up  the  brook,  by-and-by,  when  the  water  gets  low, 
and  see  what  evidences  we  can  find  of  what  it  has  done  by 
its  wearing  action  in  past  ages. 

"You  would  not  think,"  added  Lawrence,  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause,  looking  at  the  same  time  toward  the  tum- 
bling and  roaring  torrent  before  them,  "  that  it  would  be 
possible  to  measure  the  quantity  of  mud  which  is  carried 
down  by  such  a  stream  as  this  in  a  year." 

Dorrie  said  that  any  one  might  know  it  would  be  im- 
possible. The  only  way  would  be,  she  said,  to  have  a  tank 
large  enough  to  catch  and  hold  all  the  water  for  a  year, 
and  then,  after  letting  the  mud  subside,  to  draw  off  the 
clear  water,  and  then  measure  the  dried  mud  that  was  left, 
and  all  that  could  not  possibly  be  done. 

Lawrence  said  there  was  one  other  way,  and  that  was 
to  make  some  approximate  determination  of  the  quantity 
of  water  which  passed  through  the  brook  in  the  course  of 
a  year,  and  then  ascertain  what  portion  of  the  whole  vol- 
ume consisted  of  sedimentary  material  suspended  in  it. 

"  For  instance,"  said  he, "  suppose  there  were  at  some 


192  GREAT    RESULTS. 

place  in  such  a  brook  an  artificial  channel  planked  in,  of 
such  dimensions  and  of  such  a  length  as  to  hold,  when  full, 
a  thousand  gallons  of  water,  or  any  other  known  quantity, 
and  suppose  also  that  the  flow  of  the  water  in  the  brook 
was  steadily  such  as  to  keep  this  channel  always  full.  We 
must  suppose,  too,  not  only  that  the  flow  of  the  water  was 
unchanged,  but  that  the  turbidness  of  it,  that  is,  the  pro- 
portion of  sedimentary  matter  held  in  suspension  in  it,  was 
always  the  same." 

"All  that  would  be  impossible,"  said  Dorrie. 

"Yes,"  replied  Lawrence,  "  it  would  be  impossible  prac- 
tically to  realize  such  a  state  of  things,  but  it  is  all  sitppos- 
able,  and  I  am  only  supposing  it  to  enable  me  to  explain  a 
principle. 

"Suppose,  then,  there  were  such  a  channel,"  continued 
Lawrence,  "  and  that  we  knew  how  much  it  would  hold ; 
then,  by  putting  in  something  that  would  float  at  the  up- 
per end,  and  observing  how  long  it  was  in  running  through, 
we  should  learn  how  long  a  time  was  required  for  the 
channel  to  be  filled  and  emptied,  and  from  that  we  could 
easily  calculate  hoAV  many  times  it  was  filled  and  emptied 
in  a  day.  Thus  we  could  learn  how  much  water  passed 
down  the  brook  in  a  day,  and  so  for  any  other  portion  of 
time,  as,  for  example,  a  year. 

"  But  the  real  question  would  be,  not  in  regard  to  the 
amount  of  water  which  passed,  but  the  quantity  of  solid 
matter  contained  in  it.  To  determine  this  we  should  have 
to  take  up  a  quantity  of  the  water — a  gallon,  for  instance, 
and  let  it  stand  until  all  the  sedimentary  substances  which 
it  contains  has  subsided.  Then  we  must  pour  off  the  clear 
water,  and  measure  or  weigh  the  sediment.  By  this  means 
we  should  have  the  necessary  elements  for  determining 
how  much  sedimentary  matter  would  pass  down  the  brook 
in  any  given  time." 


ELEMENTS    OF   THE    CALCULATION.  193 

This  explanation  of  Lawrence's  answered  very  well  to 
show  the  principle  on  which  such  measurements  and  calcu- 
lations are  made,  but  the  operation  could  not  be  performed 
practically  in  the  way  in  which  he  presented  it,  on  account 
of  the  enormous  difference  in  the  flow  of  the  water,  and 
the  still  greater  difference  in  the  quantity  of  sediment,  at 
different  times  and  seasons.  These  differences  would  be 
much  greater  in  such  a  stream  as  the  Morningside  Brook 
than  in  any  very  large  river.  It  is  very  probable  that  in 
such  a  stream  as  this  brook,  the  flow  of  water  during  a 
freshet  in  the  spring  would  be  a  thousand  times  greater 
than  when  the  water  was  low  in  midsummer.  In  such  a 
case,  a  very  large  number  of  observations  would  be  re- 
quired—  one,  at  least,  every  day  —  to  furnish  us  with  the 
means  of  obtaining  any  thing  like  a  fair  average.  An  im- 
mense number  of  observations,  too,  in  respect  to  the  quan- 
tity of  sediment  contained  in  the  water  at  different  times, 
would  be  required. 

The  difficulty  would  not  be  so  great  in  the  case  of  a 
large  river  like  the  Mississippi  or  the  Amazon,  since  the 
quantity  of  water  issuing  at  the  mouth  of  such  rivers,  and 
the  proportion  of  sediment  that  the  water  contains,  though 
varying  very  much  at  different  seasons,  are  not,  by  any 
means,  subject  to  such  enormous  and  such  rapid  fluctua- 
tions as  in  the  case  of  a  brook  flowing  out  from  among  its 
native  hills,  which  is  sometimes,  in  midsummer,  a  mere 
thread,  transparent  and  pure,  and  at  others  a  raging  tor- 
rent, perfectly  opaque  with  its  turbidness. 

Still,  great  as  the  difficulties  are  in  making  the  necessary 
observations  upon  large  rivers,  they  have  been  encounter- 
ed and  overcome  in  many  instances.  One  of  the  most  strik- 
ing of  the  cases  which  have  been  thus  investigated  is  that 
of  the  Mississippi,  the  action  of  which  has  been  very  careful- 
ly and  thoroughly  investigated  by  government  engineers. 
I 


194  GREAT    RESULTS. 

Very  numerous  and  long-continued  measurements  and 
observations,  and  many  laborious  computations  to  be  made 
from  the  various  data  obtained,  were  required  before  reach- 
ing the  results. 

For  example,  it  is  found  that  the  rapidity  of  the  current 
is  quite  different  in  different  parts  of  the  channel,  at  the 
same  point  in  the  course  of  the  stream,  the  water  moving 
more  slowly  near  the  shores  and  near  the  bottom,  and 
much  more  rapidly  near  the  centre  of  the  channel.  A 
great  many  nice  observations,  made  by  means  of  very  cu- 
rious and  ingenious  instruments,  were  consequently  neces- 
sary to  obtain  the  average  velocity  of  the  flow.  Then  the 
amount  of  material  in  suspension  is  found  to  be  quite  dif- 
ferent at  different  seasons  of  the  year.  And,  besides  the 
quantity  of  muddy  material  held  in  suspension  in  the  wa- 
ter, and  borne  along  with  it,  it  has  been  found,  on  careful 
examination,  that  there  is  always  a  constant  movement 
onward  in  the  sand  and  pebbles  on  the  bottom  of  a  stream 
of  running  water. 

This  movement  on  the  bottom  takes  place  continually  in 
all  running  streams,  even  at  times  when  there  is  no  per- 
ceptible amount  of  sedimentary  matter  held  in  solution,  so 
that  when  the  water  seems  perfectly  clear,  you  can  often 
see  the  sand  creep  along  on  the  bottom,  impelled  by  the 
onward  gliding  of  the  water.  Lawrence  called  John's  at- 
tention to  this  one  day,  some  time  after  the  freshet,  when 
the  brook  had  returned  to  its  ordinary  condition,  and  John 
was  much  interested  in  watching  the  progress  of  it.  Law- 
rence told  him  that  even  pebble-stones  of  considerable  size 
were  slowly  moving  onward  in  this  way,  even  when  the 
water  was  in  its  ordinary  state ;  and,  of  course,  in  times  of 
freshet,  the  power  of  the  water  to  move  sand  and  pebble- 
stones in  this  way  was  enormously  increased.  To  test  this 
action,  John  put  some  white  stones  in  the  bottom  of  a 


RESULTS    IX   RESPECT   TO   THE    MISSISSIPPI.  195 

small  brook  near  the  house,  and  was  surprised  to  see  how 
they  were  gradually  carried  forward,  day  by  day,  down 
the  stream. 

In  respect  to  the  Mississippi,  a  great  many  very  careful 
experiments  at  different  seasons,  and  in  different  parts  of 
the  channel,  have  been  made  to  determine,  with  as  much 
accuracy  as  possible,  all  the  particulars  in  respect  to  the 
nature  and  the  effects  of  the  river  action.  A  summary  of 
the  results  of  these  investigations  is  given  by  Sir  Charles 
Lyell,  whose  works,  in  addition  to  their  very  high  scien- 
tific character,  which  gives  them  every  where  throughout 
England  and  America  the  rank  of  works  of  standard  au- 
thority in  respect  to  the  subjects  of  which  they  treat,  are 
exceedingly  attractive  to  the  general  reader,  whether  spe- 
cially interested  in  this  class  of  subjects  or  not,  on  account 
of  the  clear,  lucid,  and  comprehensive  views  which  they 
present  of  the  phenomena  of  nature  now  taking  place  upon 
the  earth,  and  the  clearness  with  which  they  bring  to  the 
mind  impressions  of  their  magnificence  and  grandeur. 

By  means  of  a  great  number  and  variety  of  observations 
and  experiments,  it  has  been  ascertained  that  the  average 
amount  of  sedimentary  matter  in  the  water  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, near  its  mouth,  is  about  l!}()()  part  in  weight  of  solid 
matter.  This  seems  very  small.  In  addition  to  this,  there 
is  also  the  quantity  of  pebbles  and  sand  that  is  moved 
along  on  the  bottom  of  the  stream,  without  being  suspend- 
ed in  the  water  at  all.  The  whole  would,  however,  in  all 
probability,,  amount  to  less  than  a  sediment  of  a  tenth  of 
an  inch  in  a  barrel  of  water. 

And  yet  so  enormous  is  the  volume  of  the  water  which 
passes  out  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  that  the  estimated 
quantity,  even  at  this  rate,  of  solid  matter  brought  down 
by  it  annually  to  the  sea  is  more  than  three  thousand  mill- 
ions of  cubic  feet ! 


196  GREAT   RESULTS. 

Very  careful  measurements  and  calculations  have,  more- 
over, been  made  of  the  whole  quantity  of  alluvial  deposit 
which  has  actually  been  formed  in  and  around  the  mouth 
of  the  river,  with  a  view  of  determining  how  long  a  time 
would  be  required,  at  the  present  rate  of  deposition,  for 
bringing  down  the  necessary  quantity  of  material.  The 
results  of  the  calculations  vary,  of  course,  according  to  the 
different  estimates  and  calculations  of  different  engineers. 
At  the  rate  given  above,  that  is,  an  annual  deposit  of  be- 
tween three  and  four  thousand  millions  of  cubic  feet  a 
year,  nearly  seventy  thousand  years  would  be  required  for 
the  work  which  is  found  by  careful  measurement  to  be  al- 
ready done.  But  some  calculations  make  the  quantity 
brought  down  annually  very  much  greater  than  this,  so  as 
to  reduce  the  number  of  years  required  to  between  thirty 
and  forty  thousand. 

There  is  another  aspect  in  which  the  amount  of  work 
accomplished  by  the  action  of  a  river  may  be  regarded, 
that  is,  by  considering  the  effect  of  this  action  in  wearing 
away  and  reducing  the  level  of  the  land  above,  instead  of 
considering  its  effect  in  forming  new  land  near  the  sea  be- 
low. 

The  result  of  the  estimates  and  calculations  which  have 
been  made  in  respect  to  this  point  is,  that  the  rate  of  dis- 
integration and  denudation  of  the  surface  of  the  ground 
by  river  action  throughout  the  earth  is  such  as  to  reduce 
the  general  level  of  the  ground  at  the  rate  of  about  one 
foot  in  six  thousand  years. 

This  is  a  very  slow  process,  it  is  true,  and,  at  the  same 
rate,  it  will  take  a  very  long  while  to  level  down  the  whole 
American  continent,  and  distribute  all  the  materials  which 
compose  it  over  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  especially  when 
we  consider  that,  according  to  the  estimate  made  by  Hum- 
boldt,  the  average  height  of  the  land  on  the  American 


MOVEMENT    OF   THE    LAND.  197 

continent  above  the  sea  level  is  nearly  eight  hundred  feet. 
The  mean  height  of  the  land  over  the  whole  earth — that  is, 
the  average  of  the  plains,  valleys,  hills,  and  mountains,  is 
estimated  at  about  one  thousand  feet.  At  the  present  rate 
at  which  the  process  of  abrasion  and  denudation  is  going 
on,  it  would  require,  as  the  geologists  calculate,  about  six 
millions  of  years  to  wear  away  all  the  land,  and  cause  the 
water  of  the  sea  to  flow  over  the  whole  surface  of  the 
globe. 

This  is,  however,  on  the  supposition  that  the  founda- 
tions of  the  land,  while  the  process  is  going  on,  remain  im- 
movable ;  for  if  the  land  is  slowly  rising  in  any  part,  or 
slowly  subsiding,  the  process  of  reducing  the  whole  to  the 
sea  level  would,  of  course,  be  accelerated  or  retarded  ac- 
cording to  the  rate  and  the  character  of  the  motion.  And 
this  is,  in  fact,  found  to  be  really  the  case  in  respect  to  the 
foundations  of  the  continents  and  the  islands.  In  some 
places  the  land  is  found  to  be  slowly  rising,  in  others  slow- 
ly sinking ;  and  there  are  many  parts  of  the  earth  where 
evidences  of  past  risings  and  subsidings  are  abundant  and 
perfectly  conclusive.  Indeed,  as  will  be  shown  more  fully 
in  a  future  chapter,  there  is  much  reason  to  doubt  whether 
the  land  any  where,  even  where  it  consists  of  the  most 
solid  rocks,  or  the  most  extensive  mountain  ranges,  is  in  a 
state  of  perfect  repose. 

However  this  may  be,  it  is  evident  that,  notwithstand- 
ing the  enormous  amount  that  is  worn  away  from  the  land 
and  carried  down  into  the  sea  every  year  by  such  a  river 
as  the  Mississippi,  the  process  of  abrading  the  whole  conti- 
nent is  proceeding  at  a  very  slow  rate,  and  a  very  long 
time  would  be  required  to  make  any  change  that  would  be 
sensible  to  the  human  inhabitants  occupying  the  region. 
But  we  have  to  accustom  ourselves  to  taking  very  long 
periods  of  time  into  account  in  contemplating  the  geolog- 


198  GREAT   RESULTS. 

ical  processes  which  have  been  going  on  during  past  ages, 
as  well  as  in  looking  forward  to  the  future  results  of  those 
which  are  now  going  on. 

The  quantity  of  sediment  which  is  brought  down  by  the 
great  rivers  of  the  globe,  small  as  it  is  in  any  brief  period 
in  relation  to  the  whole  mass  of  the  rocky  and  earthy  stra- 
ta from  which  they  derive  it,  is  still  very  large  every  year 
in  relation  to  the  operations  and  even  the  conceptions  of 
man.  The  materials  form  vast  deposits  around  the  mouths 
of  the  rivers,  and  build  the  laud  out,  so  to  speak,  farther 
and  farther  every  year,  the  process  of  accumulation  con- 
tinuing sometimes  for  a  series  of  years,  and  then  again, 
after  a  time,  from  some  change  in  the  direction,  or  the  force 
of  the  currents  or  waves  of  the  sea,  the  land  thus  formed 
is  undermined  and  borne  away.  Often,  after  a  time,  the 
outlet  in  one  direction  becomes  partially  clogged  up,  and 
a  new  one  is  opened  upon  one  side.  Thus  we  find  that  al- 
most all  large  rivers,  such,  for  instance,  as  the  Nile,  the 
Danube,  the  Po,  the  Mississippi,  and  the  Ganges,  make  for 
themselves  many  branches  at  their  mouths,  through  which 
the  water  issues  to  the  sea.  This  can  be  seen  in  respect 
to  any  of  these  rivers  by  looking  at  a  map. 

The  incessant  changes  which  are  constantly  taking  place 
in  these  formations  give  rise  sometimes  to  very  remarka- 
ble phenomena.  One  of  the  most  singular  of  these  is  the 
formation  of  what  they  call  mud-lumps  at  the  mouths  of 
the  Mississippi 

"Can  you  imagine  any  way,"  said  Lawrence  to  John, 
when  speaking  to  him  on  this  subject  one  day,  "  by  which 
a  river  could  build  up  hills  of  mud  at  its  mouth  a  great 
deal  higher  than  the  top  of  the  water  itself?" 

John,  after  some  reflection,  said  it  seemed  to  him  impos- 
sible. 

"The  River  Mississippi  does  raise  such  hillocks,"  said 


MISSISSIPPI    MUD-LUMPS.  199 

Lawrence,  "  sometimes  with  stones  coming  from  the  bal- 
last of  vessels,  and,  in  one  case,  even  an  anchor,  on  the  top 
of  them." 

Lawrence  then  went  on  to  explain  that  the  regions  over 
which  the  sediment  is  deposited  at  the  mouth  of  such  a 
river  as  the  Mississippi  extend  over  a  space  of  perhaps  a 
hundred  square  miles ;  that  over  this  space  the  deposits 
are  not  made  uniformly,  but  are  laid  down  more  abundant- 
ly in  some  places  than  in  others — the  places  changing  ac- 
cording to  the  changes  in  the  form  and  course  of  the  out- 
lets, and  the  quantity  of  sediment  brought  down — and  that 
when  it  happens  that  a  great  quantity  of  sediment  is,  for  a 
year  or  more,  heaped  in  a  particular  place,  the  immense 
weight  and  pressure  upon  the  part  where  the  accumula- 
tion lies  causes  shoals  of  mud  in  the  vicinity  to  bulge  up, 
bringing  with  them  whatever  happens  to  be  lying  on  the 
bottom — just  as,  when  a  railroad  is  to  be  carried  across  a 
morass,  the  weight  of  gravel  and  stones  hauled  in  to  make 
a  foundation  for  the  roadway  often  causes  the  mud  of  the 
morass  on  each  side  to  bulge  up,  and  tilts  the  trees  about 
in  every  direction. 

The  first  effect  of  this  bulging  is,  of  course,  to  make  a 
broad  and  gently  sloping  island  of  the  shoal  which  is  thus 
lifted  above  the  surface ;  but,  after  a  time,  the  waves  and 
the  currents  wash  away  the  margin  of  it  all  around,  and 
end,  at  last,  in  leaving  a  small  hillock  of  dry  mud  from  ten 
to  fifteen  feet  high,  and  a  broad  expanse  of  shallow  water 
all  around  it  which  is  dangerous  to  navigation.  The  pi- 
lots call  these  hillocks  mud-lumps,  and  they  put  rude  land- 
marks of  various  kinds  to  mark  the  spot  where  they  lie. 

This  is  one  among  the  very  curious  ways  by  which  hills 
and  hillocks  are  formed.  The  casual  observer,  on  seeing 
one  of  these  hills,  especially  if,  after  a  time,  it  should  be- 
come covered  with  a  thicket  of  grass  and  bushes,  might 


200 


GREAT   RESULTS. 


well  wonder  by  what  possible  process  such  a  mound  could 
be  raised  by  the  action  of  the  river. 

But,  besides  the  sedimentary  and  earthy  matter  that  is 
brought  down  by  such  rivers  as  the  Mississippi,  the  quan- 
tity of  floating  wood  that  they  convey,  in  the  form  of  trees 
which  have  been  undermined  and  carried  away  from  the 
banks  along  the  whole  course  of  the  stream,  is  enormous. 
These  trees  sometimes  become  entangled  together,  and  get 
lodged  upon  a  shoal,  and  there,  after  their  roots  or  branches 
are  partly  buried  in  the  sand  so  that  they  are  held  firmly, 
they  catch  and  retain  other  trees,  and  gather  around  them 
more  sediment  and  sand,  until  at  length  an  island  is  formed. 
This  island  gains  more  and  more  room  for  itself  by  aiding 
to  deflect  the  course  of  the  stream  on  each  side,  until  at 


FORMATION   OF   AN   ISLAND   IN    TI1E   AMAZON. 


ISLANDS.  203 

length  sometimes  a  large  and  permanent  piece  of  ground 
is  produced,  which  becomes  clothed  with  vegetation,  and 
endures  perhaps  for  centuries. 

Sooner  or  later,  however,  by  some  change  in  the  direc- 
tion or  force  of  the  current,  the  stream  commences  the 
process  of  destroying  and  carrying  away  the  work  it  has 
constructed.  The  deepening  and  excavating  action  of  the 
water  begins  at  first  on  the  margin  of  the  land.  It  under- 
mines and  carries  away  portion  after  portion  of  the  super- 
incumbent mass.  The  process  of  destruction  is  aided  by 
the  winds  and  waves  where  the  river  is  wide,  until  at  last 
the  whole  is  swept  away,  and  nothing  but  a  shoal  is  left 
where  before  there  were  acres  of  solid  ground. 

Sometimes  the  final  work  of  destruction  of  one  of  these 
islands  proceeds  with  great  rapidity  under  the  action  of 
a  violent  storm.  The  opposite  engraving  represents  the 
scene  presented  in  a  case  of  this  kind  on  one  of  the  rivers 
of  South  America,  as  described  and  delineated  by  an  eye- 
witness. 

The  floating  trees  thus  swept  into  the  river  by  the  un- 
dermining of  the  banks  are  brought  down  in  such  enor- 
mous quantities,  or,  rather,  they  accumulate  so  much  in  the 
case  of  such  a  river  as  the  Mississippi,  which  receives  them 
from  banks  extending  —  if  we  include  the  branches — for 
perhaps  a  hundred  thousand  miles,  that  sometimes,  in  the 
lower  part  of  its  course,  they  form  jams,  or  rafts,  as  they 
are  called,  covering  the  whole  breadth  of  some  of  the  chan- 
nels. When  the  water  in  any  place  is  thus  bridged  across, 
every  thing  floating  that  is  brought  down  is,  of  course,  in- 
tercepted, and  the  raft  gradually  extends  up  the  stream 
year  after  year.  Great  efforts  are  made  to  prevent  the  for- 
mation of  these  rafts  at  the  present  day,  and  to  break  them 
ap  as  soon  as  they  begin  to  form.  In  early  times,  however, 
Borne  of  these  accumulations  attained  to  an  immense  mag- 


204  GREAT    RESULTS. 

nitude.  There  was  one  on  the  Atchafalaya,  an  arm  of  the 
Mississippi,  which  took  and  held  possession  of  the  river  for 
about  forty  years,  until  it  attained  a  length  of  ten  miles. 
At  the  place  where  the  bridge  was  formed  the  river  was 
about  six  or  seven  hundred  feet  wide,  and  the  multitude 
of  trees  that  were  jammed  together  formed  a  layer  about 
eight  feet  thick.  The  whole  mass  moved  up  and  down 
with  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  water,  and  so  much  mud  was 
deposited  among  the  trunks  and  branches,  and  they  became 
so  matted  together,  that  at  last  quite  an  accumulation  of 
soil  was  produced,  and  the  raft  became  covered  with  bush- 
es, and  trees,  and  aquatic  plants,  till  it  formed,  as  it  were, 
an  immense  floating  swamp.  Some  of  the  trees  grew  to 
be  sixty  feet  high. 

The  government  at  length  took  measures  to  clear  the  im- 
mense obstruction  away  by  means  of  great  saws  attached 
by  appropriate  machinery  to  very  strong  boats  constructed 
for  the  purpose.  The  work  was  finally  accomplished,  and 
the  navigation  of  the  river  reopened. 

Far  the  largest  proportion  of  these  trees,  however,  find 
their  way  at  once  to  the  sea,  as,  in  fact,  all  of  them  do  in 
the  end.  There  many  of  them  become  water-logged,  and 
sink  Those  that  remain  buoyant  are  floated  away,  borne 
by  currents  or  driven  by  the  winds  till  they  finally  sink,  or 
become  stranded  on  distant  shores.  There  are  some  coun- 
tries in  the  northern  parts  of  the  globe,  and  on  the  confines 
of  the  arctic  regions,  that  depend  entirely  for  all  the  wood 
they  have  for  fuel,  and  for  the  construction  of  their  cabins, 
their  boats,  and  their  implements  and  instruments  of  hunt- 
ing, husbandry,  and  war,  on  the  wood  which  is  thus  wafted 
to  their  shores  from  the  mouths  of  rivers  hundreds  and 
sometimes  thousands  of  miles  away, 


PLANNING   A   JOURNEY.  205 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

TRAVELING   BY   PROGRAMME. 

LATE  in  the  fall  Lawrence  formed  a  plan  for  going  to 
New  York  for  a  few  days  before  the  winter  should  set  in. 
His  object  was  to  procure  some  new  books  and  some  arti- 
cles of  apparatus  to  aid  him  in  his  studies  during  the  win- 
ter, and  also  to  purchase  an  improved  lathe  which  he  had 
seen  advertised,  and  which  he  thought  would  be  of  great 
use  to  him  in  making  and  repairing  apparatus  himself. 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  Thanksgiving  week,"  said  John, 
when  Lawrence  told  him  of  his  intentions, "  and  then  I  can 
go  with  you.  We  have  a  vacation  Thanksgiving  week." 

"And  what  will  you  do  for  your  Thanksgiving?"  asked 
Lawrence. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  about  that,"  said  John.  "  Besides,  we 
can  have  it  on  the  way  somewhere.  We  can  go  to  Del- 
monico's  in  New  York." 

"  But  perhaps  it  won't  be  Thanksgiving  the  same  day  in 
New  York,"  said  Lawrence.  "  Sometimes  different  days 
are  appointed  in  different  states." 

"  That  makes  no  difference,"  said  John ;  "  I  don't  care  if 
I  lose  it  entirely." 

"Are  you  sure  your  father  will  be  willing  to  let  you  go?" 
said  Lawrence. 

John  said  he  was  sure.  His  father,  he  said,  was  always 
willing  to  have  him  go  any  where  with  Lawrence. 

This  was  true,  for  John's  father  was  well  aware  that  the 
kind  of  mental  training  and  development  which  came  from 
Lawrence's  conversation,  and  from  the  use  which  he  made 


206  TRAVELING    BY    PROGRAMME. 

of  the  various  incidents  and  phenomena  observed  on  such 
journeys,  was  of  far  greater  value  to  John  than  any  study 
of  lessons  out  of  books,  though  these  last  were  also  very 
important  in  their  place. 

Lawrence  said  that  he  was  willing  to  go  on  Thanksgiv- 
ing week  if  John  found  that  his  father  was  willing  that 
he  should  go  with  him  then.  But  when  John  proposed  the 
plan  to  his  father,  he  met  with  an  unexpected  difficulty. 

"Did  your  cousin  invite  you  to  go  with  him, or  did  you 
invite  yourself?"  asked  his  father. 

John's  countenance  fell.  He  replied,  in  a  somewhat  de- 
sponding tone,  that  he  supposed  he  invited  himself. 

"  That  makes  the  case  doubtful,"  said  his  father ;  "  I  must 
think  of  it." 

Now  John  knew  that  when  his  father  said  in  this  way 
that  he  would  reserve  his  decision,  he  would  really  reserve 
it,  and  that  it  would  be  of  no  use  whatever  to  attempt  to 
argue  the  point  any  farther  at  that  time.  So  he  simply 
said  that  he  would  wait,  though  he  added  that  he  really 
believed  that  Lawrence  would  like  to  have  him  go. 

"  I  have  no  doubt,"  said  his  father,  "  that  he  would  like 
your  company,  but  there  may  be  some  reasons  why  it 
would  not  be  convenient  at  this  time  for  him  to  take  you 
with  him.  However,  I  will  think  of  it,  and  let  you  know 
to-morrow." 

So  John  went  away,  and  the  first  thing  he  did  was  to 
report  this  conversation,  and  the  difficulty  which  his  father 
had  raised,  to  Lawrence.  This  is  just  what  his  father  pre- 
sumed that  he  would  do.  If  he  had  himself  sent  word  to 
Lawrence  that  he  was  not  willing  that  John  should  go 
with  him  unless  Lawrence  would  like  to  have  him  go,  Law- 
rence might  have  felt  obliged,  as  it  were,  to  invite  him,  un- 
less there  was  some  very  decided  objection  to  his  going ; 
whereas,  by  sending  no  special  word,  but  leaving  John  to 


MISS  RANDOM'S  PLANS.  207 

report  in  his  own  way  the  ground  of  his  father's  hesitancy, 
Lawrence  was  left  entirely  free.  He  was  not  required  to 
do  or  say  any  thing  unless  he  really  would  like  to  have 
John  go  with  him,  in  which  case  he  could  say  GO. 

So,  when  John  reported  the  conversation  which  he  had 
had  with  his  father,  Lawrence  at  once  said, 

"Tell  your  father — no, I  will  write  him  a  note.  A  writ- 
ten note  means  more  in  such  a  case  than  a  message." 

So  he  wrote  a  note  saying  that  he  would  really  like  very 
much  to  have  John  accompany  him  on  his  journey,  and  he 
would  have  proposed  it  himself  were  it  not  that  he  did  not 
feel  at  liberty,  in  ordinary  cases,  to  propose  plans  to  John 
which  involved  any  considerable  expense. 

The  receipt  of  this  note  by  John's  father  settled  the 
question  at  once,  and  it  was  decided  that  John  was  to  go. 

There  was  to  be  a  vacation  of  a  week  at  Thanksgiving 
at  the  Morningside  school,  commencing  on  Wednesday 
morning.  Lawrence  and  John  determined  to  set  out  on 
that  morning,  so  as  to  have  the  whole  week  for  their  jour- 
ney. 

Now  it  happened  that  Miss  Random  Avas  going  to  re- 
turn to  New  York  on  the  Wednesday  following  Thanks- 
giving, which  would  be  the  day  after  Lawrence  and  John 
would  return,  provided  that  they  occupied  the  whole  week 
of  John's  vacation  with  their  journey.  Lawrence  had  at 
first  intended  not  to  go  to  New  York  till  later  in  the  sea- 
son, and  Miss  Random  had  understood  that  this  was  his 
plan.  He  had,  indeed,  so  informed  her,  and,  in  bidding  her 
good-by,  had  promised  to  call  and  see  her  at  her  boarding- 
school  in  New  York  when  he  came.  At  length,  when  Miss 
Random  heard,  as  she  did  incidentally,  that  he  was  going 
with  John  just  a  week  before  the  time  of  her  going,  she  at 
first  looked  a  little  thoughtful. 

He  cares  more  for  John,  she  said  to  herself,  than  he  does 


208  TRAVELING   BY    PROGRAMME. 

for  me.  He  changes  the  time  of  his  journey  to  suit  John, 
but  he  did  not  think  of  such  a  thing  as  changing  it  for  the 
sake  of  going  with  me. 

It  so  happened  that  Dora — which  was  one  of  the  names 
by  which  Miss  Random  was  called — heard  the  news  of 
Lawrence's  change  of  plan  at  a  time  when  she  was  in  the 
company  of  a  certain  friend  of  hers  named  Lavinia.  La- 
vinia  had  called  to  see  her  that  morning,  and  the  two  young 
ladies  were  sitting  together  in  Dora's  room. 

"If  I  were  you,"  said  Miss  Lavinia, "  I  would  pretend  not 
to  know  that  he  had  changed  his  plan  so  as  to  go  with 
John,  and  I'd  send  him  word  that  you  are  going  immedi- 
ately after  Thanksgiving,  and  ask  him  if  he  can  not  go  at 
that  time  just  as  well  as  later,  so  as  to  take  you  under  his 
charge  during  the  journey." 

"  No,"  said  Dora,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "  that  won't 
do.  It  would  only  worry  and  perplex  him,  now  he  has  en- 
gaged to  go  with  John." 

"But  he  can  change  that  plan  if  he  has  a  mind  to  do  it," 
said  Lavinia.  "  Besides,  if  it  does  make  him  feel  bad,  it  is 
no  matter;  it  will  be  good  enough  for  him — to  pay  him 
for  slighting  you  for  the  sake  of  such  a  little  nobody  as  that 
John.  And  then,  if  you  ask  him  to  change  again  in  order 
to  go  with  you,  you  wrill  find  out  how  much  he  cares  for 
you." 

Dora  shook  her  head  with  a  disapproving  expression 
upon  her  countenance  at  hearing  this  suggestion,  but  still, 
after  a  while,  Lav'.nia  persuaded  her  to  adopt  it,  and  she 
contrived  to  send  Lawrence  some  such  message  as  Lavinia 
had  recommended.  When  Lawrence  told  John  of  this, 
John  was  very  indignant.  It  was  very  mean  in  her,  he 
said,  to  try  to  get  his  journey  away  from  him  ; 

"Because,"  said  he,  "if  you  wait  till  after  my  vacation 
is  over,  then  I  can't  go  at  all.  I  think  it  is  very  impudent 


NATURE    OF   REMEDIES.  209 

in  her  to  ask  such  a  thing ;  and,  if  I  were  you,  I  would 
send  her  back  some  impudent  answer  in  return." 

"  And  so  remedy  impudence  by  impudence,"  said  Law- 
rence. 

"  Yes,"  replied  John,  decidedly. 

"  Suppose  a  drop  of  acid  should  accidentally  fall  upon 
some  thing  that  would  be  injured  by  it,  would  you  put  on 
more  acid  of  another  kind  to  remedy  the  mischief?" 

"No,"  replied  John,  "  I  would  put  on  some  alkali." 

"  That  is  to  say,"  rejoined  Lawrence,  "  in  order  to  pre- 
vent the  mischief,  you  would  apply  a  substance  of  a  na- 
ture exactly  opposite  to  that  of  the  substance  that  was  to 
make  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  John ;  "  to  neutralize  it." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Lawrence ;  "  and  that  is  exactly  the 
best  policy  to  pursue  with  all  kinds  of  wrong  —  apply  a 
remedy  exactly  the  opposite  of  the  evil." 

"No,"  replied  John,  "I  think  that  is  a  very  different 
thing." 

"  That's  very  true,"  said  Lawrence ;  "  the  two  cases  are, 
in  some  respects,  very  different  indeed." 

"  At  any  rate,  I  am  sorry  that  she  has  sent  you  any  such 
message,"  added  John. 

"  And  I  am  glad,"  said  Lawrence. 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  possibly  be  glad,"  said  John. 

"  Because  it  gives  me  an  opportunity  to  make  an  exper- 
iment upon  mind,"  said  Lawrence.  "  I  like  studying  the 
qualities  and  properties  of  matter,  and  making  experi- 
ments, by  means  of  the  knowledge  I  get,  in  the  manipu- 
lation and  management  of  material  substances,  but  it  is  a 
far  higher  and  nobler  art  to  study  the  characteristics  and 
susceptibilities  of  mind,  and  to  make  experiments  in  influ- 
encing and  directing  the  feelings  of  it,  and  then  in  watch- 
ing the  results." 


210  TRAVELING   BY   PROGRAMME. 

"  I  think  it  is  a  very  different  thing,"  said  John ;  "  for 
chemical  substances  must  act  just  so,  according  to  their 
properties,  whereas  such  a  girl  as  Dora  acts  just  as  she 
happens  to  have  a  mind  to  in  each  case,  and  you  can't  de- 
pend upon  any  thing." 

Lawrence  laughed,  and  admitted  that  there  was  some 
truth  in  that  view  of  the  case. 

"But  then,"  added  Lawrence,  "that  is  not  the  whole 
truth ;  for  there  are,  at  any  rate,  some  characteristics  and 
susceptibilities  in  the  soul  that  are  sure  to  act  in  a  certain 
way  in  any  given  case.  Offer  Miss  Random  the  situation 
of  servant-girl  at  a  coal  mine,  with  good  pay,  her  duty  be- 
ing to  go  down  a  long  line  of  ladders  every  day,  with  a 
tin  pail  upon  her  head,  to  carry  dinner  to  the  workmen — " 

"  Is  that  the  way  they  manage  at  the  coal  mines  ?"  ask- 
ed John. 

"  No,"  replied  Lawrence,  "  it  is  only  a  supposition  I 
make  to  explain  the  meaning  of  what  I  was  going  to  say." 

"  Well,  go  on,  then,"  said  John. 

"  Offer  her  such  a  situation  as  that,  and  her  feelings 
would  revolt  at  the  idea,  while  there  might  be  many  gii'ls 
at  the  mines  who  would  be  much  pleased  at  obtaining  the 
situation,  and  might  even  be  quite  proud  of  it." 

"  Yes,"  replied  John,  "  I  think  it  might  be  so." 

"And  that  would  show  a  difference  in  the  condition  and 
in  the  susceptibilities  of  the  two  minds ;  and  it  is,  more- 
over, as  certain  that  each  of  the  two  would  be  affected  in 
its  own  way  when  the  proposal  was  presented  to  her,  as 
that  a  varnished  table  would  be  spotted  by  an  acid,  while 
a  waxed  table  would  not." 

"Some  girls  at  the  mines  might  not  like  such  a  situa- 
tion," said  John. 

"  True,"  replied  Lawrence ;  "just  as  there  might  be  a 
waxed  table  which  we  supposed  was  a  varnished  table, 


STUDYING    HUMAN  NATURE.  211 

and  might  consequently  be  surprised  by  an  unexpected  ef- 
fect. In  the  same  way  we  might  find  that  the  action  was 
different  from  the  one  we  expected  in  the  case  of  a  mind 
simply  on  account  of  our  mistaking  the  nature  or  charac- 
ter of  the  mind.  But  if  the  girl  I  have  supposed  has  the 
character  and  tendencies  to  be  pleased  with  such  a  place, 
it  will  be  as  certain  that  she  will  be  pleased  when  it  is  of- 
fered to  her  as  that  iron  will  move  toward  a  magnet  when 
it  is  brought  up  near  to  it,  and  it  is  free  to  move. 

"So  it  is,"  continued  Lawrence, "  with  a  great  many  of 
the  tendencies  and  susceptibilities  of  the  mind.  Some  are 
the  same  in  all  minds ;  some  differ  greatly  in  different 
minds ;  but,  in  all  cases,  if  we  only  know  what  they  are, 
we  can  depend  as  confidently,  it  would  seem,  upon  the 
effect  of  what  we  say  or  do,  as  we  can  upon  effects  of 
material  substances  upon  each  other.  So  it  may  be  that, 
in  the  case  of  mind  as  well  as  in  that  of  matter,  the  rea- 
son why  we  can  not  always  foresee  the  character  of  the 
action  is  because  we  do  not  know  fully,  or  do  not  take 
fully  into  account,  all  the  qualities,  properties,  and  suscep- 
tibilities of  the  agent. 

"At  any  rate,"  continued  Lawrence,  "I  like  to  study  hu- 
man nature,  and  try  experiments  upon  it;  and  one  thing 
that  I  have  already  learned  is,  that  when  people  are  unrea- 
sonable, making  a  display  of  indignation  and  resentment 
is  not  the  thing.  It  don't  pay.  It  is  like  putting  nitric 
acid  on  the  top  of  sulphuric,  which  only  makes  the  matter 
worse.  So  I  am  going  to  try  a  different  plan." 

"What  plan  are  you  going  to  try?"  asked  John. 

"I  am  going  to  see  Miss  Random,"  replied  Lawrence, 
"  and  treat  her  courteously,  and  see  if  the  matter  can  not 
be  arranged  in  some  satisfactory  way  all  around." 

John  looked  somewhat  anxious  at  hearing  this. 

"  If  you  go  to  see  her,"  he  said,  after  a  moment's  pause, 


212  TRAVELING   BY   PROGRAMME. 

"  she'll  persuade  you  to  put  off  your  journey  till  after  my 
vacation,  just  to  accommodate  her.  You  don't  know  what 
an  artful  girl  she  is." 

"  Would  that  be  like  me,"  asked  Lawrence,  "  after  mak- 
ing an  engagement  with  you,  to  break  it  merely  to  please 
another  person  ?" 

"  Why — no,"  said  John,  "  I  don't  think  it  would." 

To  shorten  the  story,  Lawrence  called  immediately  upon 
Miss  Random,  and  explained  to  her,  in  a  very  courteous 
and  polite  manner,  that  he  had  received  her  message,  and 
that  he  regretted  that  he  was  not  able  to  comply  with  her 
request,  for  the  reason  that,  since  he  had  seen  her  last,  he 
had  made  some  arrangements  and  entered  into  certain  en- 
gagements which  would  make  it  necessary  for  him  to  go 
to  New  York  on  the  Wednesday  before  Thanksgiving. 
But  he  added  that,  if  it  were  not  for  making  her  lose  her 
Thanksgiving,  he  should  propose  that  she  should  antici- 
pate the  time  of  her  own  journey  so  far  as  to  go  on  with 
them. 

"  It  would  give  me  so  much  pleasure,"  he  said, "  to  have 
you  in  our  party ;  and,  besides,  although  I  know  you  are 
accustomed  to  traveling,  and  could  take  care  of  yourself 
perfectly  well,  it  is  often  better,  in  case  of  any  accident, 
for  a  lady  to  have  a  gentleman  at  hand  to  protect  and  to 
help  her." 

"I  don't  care  any  thing  about  Thanksgiving,"  said  Miss 
Random.  "  It  is  nothing  but  puddings  and  pies,  and  there 
are  plenty  of  such  things  in  New  York." 

In  fact,  Miss  Random  was  so  much  gratified  by  Law- 
rence's polite  demeanor  toward  her,  and  by  the  interest 
that  he  manifested  in  having  the  pleasure  of  her  company 
on  his  journey,  that  she  said,  at  last,  after  some  farther 
conversation,  that  she  would  ask  her  mother  to  allow  her 
to  go  a  week  before  the  expected  time.  She  concluded, 


THE   JOURNEY   BEGUN.  215 

moreover,  that,  besides  the  advantage  of  having  Mr.  Wol- 
laston's  company  and  protection,  in  case  of  any  accident 
or  other  emergency  on  the  way,  it  would  be  quite  as  pleas- 
ant for  her  to  spend  her  Thanksgiving  in  New  York  as  at 
home ;  for  there  were  usually  several  young  ladies  of  the 
school  whose  homes  were  so  distant  that  they  usually  re- 
mained at  the  school  during  the  short  "holiday  vacations," 
as  they  called  them,  and  she  knew  that  these  would  form 
a  pleasant  little  party  on  Thanksgiving  evening,  and  that 
they  would  spend  the  evening  together  in  amusing  games 
and  plays  appropriate  to  the  occasion. 

Dora's  mother  consented,  though  not  without  some  hes- 
itation, to  the  change  in  her  plan,  and  thus  it  happened 
that  when  the  Wednesday  morning  in  question  arrived, 
Lawrence,  John,  and  Miss  Dora  found  themselves  comfort- 
ably established  together  in  two  seats  of  one  of  the  cars 
of  the  train,  which  seats  they  had  made  to  face  each  other 
by  turning  the  forward  one.  Dora  sat  next  the  window, 
on  the  back  seat ;  Lawrence  occupied  the  seat  by  the  side 
of  her,  next  the  passage,  and  John  sat  on  the  forward  seat, 
facing  them.  The  vacant  seat  by  the  side  of  John  was 
occupied  with  extra  coats  and  shawls,  and  by  two  or  three 
traveling  bags,  which  contained  books,  papers,  and  various 
traveling  conveniences,  and  also  a  basket,  in  which  had 
been  placed  a  supply  of  provisions,  in  the  form  of  mince 
and  apple  turnovers,  buttered  biscuit,  crullers,  and  a  bot- 
tle of  milk,  which,  though  it  was  new  that  morning,  John 
had  taken  the  precaution  to  enrich  by  adding  to  it  a  con- 
siderable quantity  of  cream  taken  from  the  milk  of  the 
night  before. 

Besides  these  small  bags,  Lawrence  had  a  larger  one, 
which  he  placed  on  the  floor  under  Dora's  feet,  saying  that 
it  would  serve  as  a  footstool  for  her,  and  would  raise  her 
feet  from  the  cold  floor,  and  so  help  to  keep  them  warm. 


216  TRAVELING   BY   PROGRAMME. 

There  is  always  enough  to  excite  the  interest  and  occu- 
py the  attention  of  such  a  party  at  the  first  setting  out, 
but  when  the  journey  is  to  extend  through  the  whole  day, 
the  time  begins  to  seem  long  after  a  while,  unless  there  is 
some  plan  or  system,  or,  rather,  some  intelligent  idea  and 
arrangement  in  respect  to  the  disposal  of  it,  especially 
when  a  boy  like  John  is  of  the  party.  Accordingly,  after 
the  train  had  started,  and  had  gone  on  about  half  an  hour, 
and  the  animation  and  excitement  attendant  on  the  first 
setting  out  on  such  a  journey  had  become  somewhat  allay- 
ed, Lawrence  said, 

"  Well,  now  we  have  a  long  journey  before  us,  and  per- 
haps it  will  pass  more  pleasantly  if  we  have  some  plan  or 
system,  for  a  part  of  the  day,  at  least,  in  respect  to  the  dis- 
posal of  our  time.  We  can  try  it,  if  you  like,  this  morn- 
ing for  two  hours,  by  having  a  programme,  and  going  ac- 
cording to  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  John,  eagerly,  "  so  we  will.  How  do  you 
doit?" 

Miss  Dora  seemed  pleased  with  the  proposal  too,  though 
she  had  only  a  very  general  idea  of  what  Lawrence  meant; 
but  she  was  in  so  pleased  and  contented  a  state  of  mind, 
and  so  happy  in  commencing  her  journey  under  auspices 
so  favorable,  that  she  was  prepared  to  be  pleased  with 
any  proposal.  So  Lawrence  proceeded  to  explain  his  plan 
more  fully. 

He  said  that  he  thought  the  stopping -places  on  the 
road  which  they  were  then  traveling  upon  were,  upon  an 
average,  perhaps,  ten  miles  apart,  and  that,  as  the  train 
was  moving  at  about  thirty  miles  an  hour,  which  gives  a 
rate  of  a  mile  every  two  minutes,  the  stoppings  would  di- 
vide the  time  into  terms  or  periods  of  about  twenty  min- 
utes each. 

"Now,"  continued  Lawrence,  "  we  might  have  a  regular 


PROPOSED   LECTURE.  217 

system  of  appropriating  the  time.  In  one  term — that  is, 
between  one  station  and  the  next — I  can  give  a  lecture  on 
some  scientific  subject.  Miss  Random  will  excuse  this,  I 
hope,"  he  added,  looking  toward  Dora,  "  for  John's  father 
allows  him  to  travel  with  me  partly  for  the  sake  of  the 
improvement  in  useful  knowledge  which  his  father  thinks 
he  makes,  and  so  I  like  to  employ  a  part  of  the  time  in 
giving  him  some  instruction,  though  I  am  afraid  that  this 
part  of  the  programme  will  not  be  very  interesting  to 
you." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Miss  Dora, "  I  shall  like  to  hear  the  lec- 
ture very  much.  I  am  very  much  interested  in  science ;  I. 
have  studied  it  a  great  deal." 

"The  subject  of  the  lecture  will  be  the  ocean,"  said 
Lawrence. 

"  That's  just  what  I  shall  like,"  said  Miss  Dora.  "  I  love 
the  ocean.  'Roll  on,  thou  dark  and  deep  blue  ocean  !  roll ! 
Ten  thousand  fleets  sweep  over  thee  in  vain.'  Did  you 
ever  read  those  splendid  verses  of  Byron  —  I  believe  it 
was  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Lawrence,  "  and  they  are  very  fine ; 
though  in  my  lecture  I  shall  have  to  deal  more  with  the 
scientific  than  with  the  poetical  aspects  of  the  subject,  I 
am  afraid.  But  still,  you  will  not  be  obliged  to  listen, 
you  know,  unless  you  wish  to  listen." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  listen,  you  may  depend,"  said  Dora. 

"  When  the  train  comes  to  a  stop,  my  lecture  will  be 
ended.  I  shall  have  the  time  of  the  slowing  of  the  loco- 
motive to  bring  it  to  a  close,  and  there  will  be  a  vacation 
while  we  stop.  Then,  for  the  next  term — that  is,  the  peri- 
od between  the  next  two  stopping-places — we  will  devote 
the  time  to  conversation.  We  can  talk  about  the  lecture, 
or  about  the  scenery,  or  any  thing  that  conies  into  our 
heads ;  we  shall  not  be  obliged  to  talk,  of  course,  but  only 
K 


218  TRAVELING   BY   PEOGKAMME. 

can  do  it  if  we  wish — that  is  to  say,  this  second  term  will 
be  the  time  appropriated  for  conversation ;  and  if  we  think 
of  any  thing  we  wish  to  say  to  each  other  at  any  other 
time,  unless  it  is  in  one  of  the  vacations,  we  must  reserve 
it  until  the  conversation  time  arrives. 

"  Then  the  next  term,"  continued  Lawrence,  in  farther 
explanation  of  his  plan,  "  shall  be  devoted  to  silence.  We 
can  read,  or  think,  or  look  out  of  the  window,  or  around 
the  car,  but  not  talk.  We  must  not  even  speak  a  word 
to  each  other  unless  some  special  emergency  makes  it  nec- 
essary." 

"  Must  Miss  Random  submit  to  that  rule,"  asked  John, 
"or  only  I?" 

"Well  —  as  to  Miss  Random,"  replied  Lawrence,  "we 
have  to  be  a  little  indulgent  to  ladies  about  obeying  rules 
of  any  kind.  You  see,  by  not  being  allowed  to  have  a 
voice  in  the  making  of  the  laws,  they  naturally  feel  as  if 
they  were  not  bound  to  be  so  very  particular  about  obey- 
ing them ;  but  you  and  I  must  be  very  strict  in  not  speak- 
ing a  word  during  the  silent  terms,  unless  it  becomes  ab- 
solutely necessary." 

"  And  I  shall  obey  too,"  said  Miss  Random.  "  Besides, 
I  shall  like  to  ride  without  any  talking  for  some  of  the 
time.  It  is  hard  talking  in  the  cars,  and  we  should  get 
very  tired  if  we  talked  all  day." 

"  Then  we  will  try  the  plan,"  said  Lawrence,  "  for  a 
while.  We  will  go  through  with  our  programme  three 
times — that  will  take  about  three  hours." 

So  it  was  agreed  to  travel  during  most  of  the  forenoon 
according  to  the  programme  which  Lawrence  had  marked 
out.  The  exercises  were  to  commence  with  a  lecture  after 
the  next  stopping. 


THE    SEA   A    CONSTRUCTOR.  219 


CHAPTER  XX. 

LECTURE     IN    A    CAR. 

As  soon  as  the  cars  began  to  move  again  after  the  next 
stop,  Lawrence  began  his  lecture. 

"  The  sea,"  he  said, "  is  in  reality  immensely  more  com- 
plicated in  its  condition  and  in  its  action,  and  in  the  scenes 
and  incidents  occurring  within  it,  than  its  appearance  to 
the  eye  of  man  would  seem  to  indicate.  To  our  view 
it  appears  like  one  vast  and  monotonous  expanse,  every 
where  and  always  the  same,  except  so  far  as  its  surface  is 
varied  by  the  rolling  of  the  waves  and  the  furious  agita- 
tions sometimes  excited  by  passing  storms.  But  it  is  real- 
ly a  world  of  the  utmost  activity,  and  of  immense  and  in- 
cessant change.  Operations  of  inconceivable  magnitude, 
variety,  and  extent  are  going  on  all  the  time  in  its  depths. 
It  is  the  great  constructor  of  land,  and  is  engaged  all  the 
time  in  laying  the  foundations  of  future  continents  all  over 
the  immense  expanse  which  it  covers — continents  which 
are  hereafter  to  be  raised  into  the  light  and  to  the  air." 

"I  thought  the  sea  was  more  the  destroyer  of  land  than 
the  constructor  of  it,"  said  Dora. 

"  It  destroys  existing  continents  for  the  sake  of  obtain- 
ing materials  from  them  for  forming  new  ones,"  said  Law- 
rence. "  The  tides  and  surges  that  it  sends  against  all  the 
shores  that  surround  it  gradually  wear  them  away,  but 
they  do  it  only  to  furnish  the  sea  with  fresh  materials  for 
forming  new  continents.  These  materials  the  sea  grinds 
up,  and  assorts,  and  arranges,  and  bears  away  to  form  new 
strata  of  gravel,  or  sand,  or  mud,  spread  all  over  the  bot- 


220  LECTUKE    IX   A   CAB. 

torn,  where  they  gradually  become  consolidated,  and  form 
vast  strata  of  new  rocks  to  be  raised  above  the  surface, 
and  form  the  foundations  of  new  continents  in  due  time. 

"  Then,  moreover,"  continued  Lawrence,  in  going  on  with 
his  lecture, "  the  sea  is  not  limited  for  its  supply  of  mate- 
rials to  what  it  obtains  from  the  margins  of  the  continents 
bordering  it  by  the  abrading  action  of  the  tides  and  waves 
which  it  sends  against  the  shores.  It  sends  its  messengers 
also  all  over  the  surface  of  the  continents  to  bring  back  to 
it  other  supplies.  These  messengers,  in  search  of  the  sup- 
plies which  they  are  sent  out  to  procure,  visit  all  the  moun- 
tains, and  valleys,  and  all  the  great  plains.  They  bring 
them  in  from  uplands  and  lowlands,  from  cliffs  and  chasms, 
from  every  wild  and  savage  gorge,  and  every  green  and 
fertile  dell.  They  wander  over  every  forest,  and  creep 
over  every  farm,  and  from  every  place  they  visit  they  gath- 
er fresh  materials  to  carry  back  to  the  sea.  They  go  forth 
empty,  but  they  come  back  full,  and  all  that  they  bring  is 
taken  by  the  sea  that  sent  them,  and,  like  what  was  ob- 
tained from  the  shores,  is  separated,  assorted,  and  distribu- 
ted, each  portion  being  conveyed  to  its  proper  place  among 
the  various  strata  which  are  in  process  of  formation  in  the 
different  portions  of  the  vast  bed  which  the  ocean  covers." 

"  But  it  is  the  rivers,"  said  John,  interposing  his  sug- 
gestion in  the  middle  of  the  lecture,  "  that  bring  in  sup- 
plies from  the  land  to  the  sea." 

"  True,"  replied  Lawrence, "  the  rivers  are  the  messen- 
gers, or,  rather,  they  are  formed  by  the  union  of  the  mes- 
sengers that  the  sea  sends  out  in  search  of  supplies." 

"  But  the  rivers  come  from  the  land  itself,"  said  John, 
"  and  not  from  the  sea." 

"What  do  they  come  from  in  the  beginning?"  asked 
Lawrence. 

"  From  the  swamps,  and  ponds,  and  springs,"  said  John. 


COURSE    OF   THE    WATER. 


221 


"  And  where  does  the  water  come  from  for  the  swamps, 
and  ponds,  and  springs?"  asked  Lawrence. 

"  From  the  rain,"  said  John. 

"  And  where  does  the  rain  come  from  ?" 

"From  the  clouds,"  said  John. 

"And  the  clouds?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  John;  "from — from — the  vapors 
in  the  air,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,"  replied  Lawrence,  "and  the  vapors  come  from 
the  sea.  So  you  see  it  is  strictly  true  that  the  sea  sends 
out  vapors,  to  be  wafted  by  breezes  and  gales  over  the 
broad  continents,  there  to  fall  in  rain,  and  hail,  and  snow 
on  the  mountains  and  plains,  and  thence  to  come  back  to; 


222  LECTURE    IN   A   CAR. 

gether,  first  in  the  form  of  little  rivulets,  the  rivulets  min- 
gling and  forming  streams,  and  these  uniting  more  and 
more  as  they  proceed  and  forming  rivers,  but  bringing  with 
them  as  they  flow  the  spoils  they  have  all  gathered  from 
the  land  to  add  to  the  vast  accumulation  of  stores  which 
their  mother  has  to  work  over,  and  assort,  and  finally  to 
deposit,  each  portion  in  its  place,  to  form  the  foundations 
of  new  continents  which  are  to  be  brought  up  into  the  air 
in  future  ages,  and  clothed  then  with  verdure  and  life. 

"The  movements  and  operations  of  the  sea,  after  receiv- 
ing its  supplies  of  materials  in  the  manner  thus  described, 
and  which  it  incessantly  maintains  in  doing  its  work,  are 
enormous  in  magnitude  and  extent.  The  Atlantic  Ocean, 
for  instance,  is  made  up  of  vast  currents  flowing  in  various 
directions  at  the  rate  of  from  twenty  to  one  hundred  and 
twenty  miles  in  a  day,  like  so  many  serpents  in  a  nest  turn- 
ing, twisting,  and  gliding  among  each  other  all  the  time  ; 
only  the  chief  currents  are  uniform  and  steady  in  their 
flowr,  each  one  continuing  to  move  substantially  in  the  same 
place  and  in  the  same  direction  from  age  to  age.  It  is  as 
if  a  dozen  great  rivers,  fifty  miles  wide  and  one  or  two 
thousand  miles  long,  were  laid  down  in  the  same  immense 
basin,  in  which  they  continued  ceaselessly  to  flow,  the  wa- 
ter of  each  at  the  end  of  its  course  winding  around  and 
forming  the  source  of  another,  and  that  again  of  a  third, 
and  so  on  in  endless  succession." 

Lawrence's  comparison  of  the  system  of  currents  in  the 
Atlantic  Ocean  to  the  action  of  a  number  of  crawling  ser- 
pents in  a  nest  was  not  very  exact,  it  must  be  admitted,  but 
the  accompanying  map,  which  is  a  copy  of  the  latest  pub- 
lished delineation  of  this  system  as  determined  by  the  most 
recent  and  most  careful  observations,  issued  not  long  since 
from  the  Hydrographic  Office  of  the  Bureau  of  Navigation 
at  Washington,  shows  that  there  is  at  least  a  certain  anal- 


CUBBENTS  OK  TUB  ATLANTIC. 


CEASELESS   MOTION    OF   THE    WATER.  225 

ogy  between  the  two  cases,  to  serve  as  the  foundation  of 
it.  The  map,  moreover,  does  not  by  any  means  represent 
all  the  currents,  but  only  the  principal  and  most  permanent 
of  them.  Besides  these  there  are  many  others  much  more 
limited  in  their  extent,  and  many  of  them  quite  variable  in 
their  flow. 

Then,  moreover,  in  additio  to  this  system  on  the  sur- 
face, there  is  another  very  different  system  of  currents  be- 
low, as  it  is  often  found  that  where  there  is  a  flow  of  wa- 
ter from  south  to  north  at  the  surface,  there  is  a  counter 
flow  from  north  to  south  some  hundreds  or  thousands  of 
feet  deeper.  So  that,  to  carry  out  fully  Lawrence's  com- 
parison, we  have  to  imagine  two  layers  of  serpents,  one  set 
above  the  other ;  and  in  the  upper  one,  in  addition  to  the 
large  and  long  ones  each  crawling,  or  rather  seeming  to 
crawl,  regularly  the  same  way,  without,  however,  really  ad- 
vancing or  changing  its  place  at  all,  we  must  suppose  a 
multitude  of  smaller  ones  in  the  intervals  among  the  larger 
ones,  twisting  and  turning  every  way  in  and  around  each 
other. 

Thus,  although  the  ocean  seems  to  the  eye  of  the  lands- 
man, as  he  looks  upon  it  from  the  deck  of  a  vessel,  to  be 
one  vast  and  monotonous  expanse,  varied  only  upon  its  sur- 
face by  the  swelling  and  sinking  of  the  waves,  it  is  really 
an  immense  congeries  of  flowing  streams — some  large  and 
permanent,  others  small  and  variable,  but  all  in  incessant 
motion — each  bearing  the  portion  of  heat  or  of  land-mak- 
ing material  with  which  it  is  charged,  and  all  combining 
their  action  to  fulfil  the  vast  functions  on  which  the  future 
condition  and  progress  of  the  globe  depend. 

The  navigators  of  the  ocean  in  former  times  were  much 
surprised  when  they  first  learned  the  existence  of  these  cur- 
rents. They  discovered  them,  in  the  first  instance,  by  ob- 
serving that,  after  the  sky  had  been  obscured  for  some 
K2 


226  LECTURE    IN   A   CAR. 

days  so  that  they  could  make  no  observations  of  the  heav- 
enly bodies,  but  could  only  determine  their  position  by 
measuring  their  progress  through  the  water,  they  often 
found,  when  at  length  the  sun  came  into  view  again,  that 
they  had,  in  some  mysterious  way,  been  carried  perhaps 
several  hundred  miles  out  of  their  way.  When  it  was  as- 
certained, by  the  experience  of  a  great  many  ships,  that 
this  drifting  effect  was  uniform  in  certain  parts  of  the  sea, 
the  continual  onward  movement  of  the  water  in  those  parts 
was  necessarily  inferred,  and  thus  the  existence,  the  direc- 
tion, and  the  force  of  the  principal  superficial  currents  was 
ascertained  quite  early.  In  recent  times  the  governments 
of  different  nations  have  sent  out  expeditions  to  make  very 
careful  measurements  of  the  directions  and  velocities  of  all 
the  currents  both  above  and  below.  The  observers  have 
employed  in  their  investigations  many  very  curiously  con- 
trived instruments  for  sounding  and  ascertaining  the  move- 
ments, and  the  temperature,  and  the  constituents  of  the  sea- 
water  at  great  depths  below  the  surface,  and  for  determin- 
ing the  rate  of  its  motion  both  above  and  below.  The  re- 
sult is,  that  the  condition  of  each  of  the  different  oceans  on 
the  globe,  and  the  nature  and  character  of  the  vast  opera- 
tions which  each  one  is  carrying  on,  are  all  now  quite  ac- 
curately known. 

The  most  remarkable  of  all  the  Atlantic  currents  is  the 
celebrated  Gulf  Stream,  so  called  because  it  issues  from  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  runs  down  along  the  coast  of  the  Unit- 
ed States  at  a  distance  of  forty  or  fifty  miles  from  the 
shore,  and  then  turns  off  opposite  the  island  of  Newfound- 
land toward  England  and  Ireland,  carrying  its  current  of 
comparatively  warm  water  and  the  vapors  which  accom- 
pany it  to  moderate  the  temperature  and  irrigate  and  fer- 
tilize the  ground  in  those  countries.  I  say  it  runs  down 
from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  for  this  is  literally  true.  The 


THE    GULF   STREAM.  227 

Gulf  Stream  is  like  an  enormous  river  flowing  from  a  lake 
high  up  on  the  land  in  the  interior — like  the  River  St.  Law- 
rence, for  example,  flowing  from  Lake  Ontario — excepting 
only  that  the  banks  of  the  Gulf  Stream  are  of  water,  while 
those  of  the  St.  Lawrence  are  of  land,  and  also  that  while 
the  lake  is  about  two  hundred  and  thirty  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  river's  discharge,  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  is  perhaps 
not  probably  one  half  as  many  inches. 

Still  there  is  an  actual  descent,  and  it  is  this  descent  that 
determines  the  flow  of  the  stream.  The  waters  of  the  gulf 
are  kept  up  at  this  elevation  by  the  general  drift  of  cer- 
tain portions  of  the  waters  of  the  Atlantic  from  the  east 
toward  the  west — which  is  indicated  on  the  map  by  the 
arrows  in  the  central  parts — and,  being  dammed  up,  as  it 
were,  by  the  shores  of  the  gulf  and  the  isthmus  between 
North  and  South  America,  the  effect  of  the  drift  is  to  raise 
the  waters  in  the  gulf  to  a  certain  height  above  the  gen- 
eral level,  whence  they  flow  off  to  the  northward  in  this 
mighty  stream. 

The  velocity  of  the  current  of  this  stream,  in  the  narrow 
channels  where  it  issues  from  the  gulf,  is,  in  certain  sea- 
sons of  the  year — for  the  flow  of  most  of  these  currents  va- 
ries considerably  at  different  seasons — about  one  hundred 
and  twenty  miles  in  a  day !  This  would  be  a  very  rapid 
flow  for  any  river  upon  the  laud.  It  is  at  the  rate  of  about 
five  miles  an  hour,  which  is  nearly  twice  as  fast  as  a  man 
would  ordinarily  walk.  Indeed,  a  man  Avould  be  obliged 
to  run  at  the  top  of  his  speed — if  there  were  a  solid  bank 
along  the  side  of  the  stream  for  him  to  run  upon— in  order 
to  keep  pace  with  any  thing — a  tuft  of  sea-weed,  or  the  por- 
tion of  a  wreck,  for  example,  which  might  be  drifting  in 
the  current. 

But,  though  there  is  no  land  bordering  these  streams,  the 
margins  of  them  are  often  surprisingly  well  defined  for  long 


228  LECTURE   IN   A   CAB. 

distances.  A  ship,  in  sailing  across  them,  passes  sometimes 
quite  suddenly — or,  at  least,  in  a  very  brief  space — from 
water  of  one  color  and  of  one  condition  as  to  temperature 
into  another  very  different  in  both  these  respects,  the  mov- 
ing streams  being  each  very  distinctly  tinged  by  the  de- 
posits with  which  they  are  severally  charged,  and  with 
which  they  are  hastening  on  their  way  to  supply  materi- 
als for  the  vast  submarine  formations  which  they  are  help- 
ing to  carry  on. 

In  one  case,  in  the  Gulf  of  Guinea,  as  will  be  seen  upon 
the  map,  there  is  a  current  which  comes  up  from  the  south- 
ward into  the  gulf,  and  there  turns  to  flow  outward  toward 
the  sea,  and  for  some  distance  runs  along  the  side  of  an- 
other current  from  the  northward  coming  in.  Each  of 
these  currents  runs  at  the  rate  of  forty  or  fifty  miles  a  day, 
so  that  a  ship,  in  going  in  or  coming  out  of  the  gulf,  would 
be  held  back  or  helped  forward  at  that  rate  according  to 
which  current  she  happened  to  fall  into. 

Not  only  in  this  case,  but  in  all  others,  it  becomes  of 
great  importance  to  every  navigator  to  understand  the  di- 
rection and  force  of  currents,  in  order  that  he  may  take  ad- 
vantage of  all  the  drifting  that  would  help  him,  and  to 
avoid  such  as  would  retard  his  progress.  Consequently, 
the  best  course  for  him  to  take,  in  sailing  from  one  port 
to  another,  is  often  any  thing  but  a  straight  one.  He  is 
obliged  to  go  meandering  about  in  a  very  winding  way 
among  all  these  flowing  streams  and  whirling  eddies,  as- 
sisted at  the  present  day  by  charts  and  plans  which  the 
governments  of  the  leading  commercial  nations  have  caused 
to  be  prepared  and  published  to  aid  him. 

For  the  governments  of  commercial  nations,  it  must  be 
understood,  have  a  double  interest  in  facilitating  in  every 
way  the  operations  of  commerce  and  navigation.  They 
not  only  wish  to  promote  the  interests  and  welfare  of  the 


SUBMARINE   FOEMATIONS.  229 

citizens,  and  the  general  increase  of  the  national  wealth, 
but  they  have,  perhaps,  a  more  direct  and  powerful  in- 
ducement still  in  the  fact  that  they  derive  a  large  part  of 
the  governmental  revenue  from  duties  levied  upon  mer- 
chandise brought  in  from  foreign  countries  by  sea.  All 
governments,  accordingly,  consider  it  their  special  prov- 
ince to  increase  the  means  and  facilities  for  navigation  in 
every  way.  They  build  and  maintain  light-houses  along 
the  coasts,  and  deepen  and  improve  the  harbors ;  they 
make  coast  surveys,  to  determine  and  mark  the  position 
of  every  rock  and  shoal ;  they  take  soundings,  and  deter- 
mine precisely  the  bounds  of  every  bay  and  harbor,  and 
of  all  the  approaches  to  the  land ;  they  establish  and  main- 
tain observatories  in  order  to  obtain  data  for  perfecting 
the  construction  of  the  astronomical  tables  on  which  the 
accuracy  of  the  calculations  of  latitude  and  longitude  at 
sea  depend ;  they  cause  to  be  computed  and  published  the 
nautical  almanacs,  in  which  all  the  motions  of  the  celestial 
bodies  are  registered  several  years  in  advance,  and  even 
send  out  expeditions  to  make  deep-sea  soundings  to  ascer- 
tain the  motions  and  the  temperature  of  the  water,  not 
only  on  the  surface,  but  at  great  depths  below,  and  even 
to  ascertain  the  character  and  composition  of  the  water  at 
those  depths,  the  animals  that  exist  at  or  near  the  bottom, 
and  the  condition  and  progress  of  the  great  work  of  con- 
struction all  the  time  going  on  there. 

The  immense  extent  of  these  submarine  formations 
arises  from  the  prolonged  and  incessant  flow  of  these  vast 
currents  by  which  the  earthy  substances  —  taken  partly 
from  the  crumbling  shores  as  they  are  worn  away  by  the 
waves,  and  partly  brought  down  by  the  rivers— are  car- 
ried, sometimes,  thousands  of  miles  away  before  they  are 
deposited  in  their  final  resting-place.  A  person  without 
much  thought  might  suppose  that  all  that  is  brought 


230  LECTURE    IN   A   CAR. 

down  by  a  river,  for  example,  would  subside  at  once,  and 
be  deposited  near  the  mouth  of  it.  This  is  true,  to  a 
great  extent,  in  regard  to  the  sand  and  pebbles,  and  other 
heavier  portions,  which  go  to  the  building  up  of  the  del- 
tas, and  to  the  forming  of  the  shoals  and  sand-bars  by 
which  the  mouths  of  most  rivers  are  encumbered ;  but  in 
regard  to  all  the  finer  portions  of  the  substances  in  sus- 
pension, they  are  often  borne  to  enormous  distances  away. 

There  are  two  considerations,  both  somewhat  curious, 
which  show  how  and  why  this  happens ;  first,  that  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  river-water  enters  the  sea,  and,  sec- 
ondly, the  very  long  time  which  it  requires  for  these  finer 
materials  to  subside. 

And,  first,  the  rivers,  in  entering  in  the  sea,  flow  over  the 
sea-water  rather  than  into  it ;  for  sea-water  is  much  heav- 
ier than  river-water,  and  the  river-water  therefore  floats 
upon  the  top  of  it,  as  brandy  will  float  over  water,  if  it  is 
poured  upon  it  carefully.  It  is  not  exactly  like  oil  and 
water,  for  oil  is  not  only  lighter  than  water,  but  there  is 
something  in  the  nature  of  it  which  prevents  its  mingling 
with  it  at  all,  except  by  the  aid,  in  some  mysterious  way, 
of  an  alkali  of  some  kind,  in  connection  with  which  the 
two  substances  can  be  made  to  combine  and  form  a  soap. 
River-water  and  sea-water  will,  however,  naturally  mix  in 
time ;  but,  in  the  first  instance,  the  tendency  is  for  the  wa- 
ter from  the  river,  as  it  issues  at  the  mouth,  to  flow  over 
that  of  the  sea,  and  only  to  become  mingled  with  it  by  the 
movements  caused  by  currents,  tides,  and  wraves.  The  wa- 
ter of  some  great  rivers,  as  of  the  Amazon  and  Oronoco, 
can  be  identified  by  their  color,  and  their  comparative 
freshness,  for  some  hundreds  of  miles  out  to  sea  ! 

The  second  cause  is  the  time  required  for  the  subsi- 
dence of  the  finer  portions  of  suspended  matter.  If  you 
were  to  take  a  tumbler  of  turbid  water  from  a  river  in 


TIME    REQUIRED   FOR   SUBSIDENCE.  231 

time  of  flood,  and  set  it  in  a  place  where  it  would  be  un- 
disturbed, and  allow  the  mud  to  subside,  you  would  find 
that  sometimes  it  would  take  a  day  or  more  before  it 
would  become  perfectly  clear — that  is  to  say,  there  is  a 
certain  portion  of  the  particles  that  would  require  twenty- 
four  hours  to  make  their  way  down  through  three  or  four 
inches  of  water  to  the  bottom  of  the  tumbler.  This  would 
be  at  the  rate  of  say  a  foot  in  three  days,  and  about  120 
feet  in  a  year;  that  is,  if  a  pond  120  feet  deep  were  filled 
with  this  water,  it  would  require  a  full  year  for  it  to  be- 
come, by  subsidence,  entirely  clear  —  meaning  by  that,  of 
course,  so  clear  that  there  should  no  longer  be  any  percep- 
tible turbidness. 

"We  are  apt  to  be  surprised  at  this  when  we  first  make 
the  calculation,  but  if  we  call  to  mind  how  long  the  lit- 
tle pools  of  muddy  water  which  remain  standing  after  a 
shower  continue  turbid,  especially  in  clayey  land,  we  shall 
be  easily  convinced  that  there  is  no  mistake  in  the  calcu- 
lation. 

Now  to  reach  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  which  is,  upon  an 
average,  some  miles  from  the  surface,  we  can  easily  see 
what  an  immensely  long  period  would  be  required,  even 
if  we  do  not  take  into  account  any  effect  from  the  move- 
ment or  agitation  of  the  water ;  for  there  is  some  move- 
ment of  the  water,  even  at  great  depths.  The  agitation, 
it  is  true,  is  mainly  at  the  surface,  though  the  influence  of 
currents  and  counter-currents  must  be  very  considerable 
far  below.  But,  even  if  these  movements  should  not  inter- 
fere at  all  with  the  progress  of  the  subsidence — indeed,  if 
we  suppose  the  ocean  to  be  arrested  in  all  its  motion,  and 
to  remain  perfectly  tranquil  long  enough  for  all  the  sub- 
stances held  in  suspension  in  its  waters  to  subside  —  no 
more,  in  the  mean  time,  being  allowed  to  enter — it  would 
require  a  period  of  more  than  forty  years  for  the  water  to 


232  LECTURE    IN   A   CAR, 

become  perfectly  clear,  at  the  rate  at  which  the  process  of 
subsidence  goes  on  in  our  supposed  tumbler,  and  allowing 
the  sea  to  be  only  a  mile  in  depth  ! 

But  it  is  pretty  well  ascertained  that  the  average  depth 
of  the  sea  is  not  less  than  four  or  five  miles,  and  there  are 
many  places  where  it  is  much  deeper  than  that ;  so  that,  if 
it  were  to  be  left  from  the  present  time  entirely  to  itself, 
it  would,  require  nearly  two  hundred  years  for  all  earthy 
matter  that  is  suspended  in  it  to  subside  to  the  bottom. 

Thus  we  see  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  suppose  that 
the  contributions  brought  to  the  sea  from  the  rivers  must 
be  all  deposited  near  the  place  where  they  are  received. 
There  is  nothing  to  prevent  their  being  conveyed  to  any 
distance,  wherever  they  may  be  required  for  the  great 
work  of  reconstruction  in  which  they  are  employed. 

Lawrence  had  proceeded  thus  far  in  his  explanations — 
though,  in  repeating  the  substance  of  his  lecture,  I  have 
not  attempted  to  give  his  exact  words — and  when  he  had 
reached  this  point  he  was  warned  by  a  prolonged  whistle 
from  the  locomotive,  accompanied  by  a  sound  of  the  put- 
ting down  of  the  brakes,  and  a  gradual  slowing  of  the 
train,  that  the  time  had  arrived  for  bringing  his  lecture  to 
a  close. 

Dora  said  that  she  wished  that  he  would  go  on  with  his 
lecture  in  the  next  term,  as  he  had  called  it.  She  liked 
the  lecture,  she  said,  very  much ;  she  knew  a  great  deal 
about  the  sea  before,  but  she  never  knew  exactly  those 
things,  and  she  would  like  to  hear  some  more  about  it. 

"  But  that  would  not  be  according  to  our  programme," 
replied  Lawrence.  "The  next  term  is  to  be  for  conversa- 
tion." 

"But  you  said  I  was  not  to  be  bound  by  the  pro- 
gramme," replied  Dora. 

"True,"  rejoined  Lawrence,  "you  have  the  lady's  privi- 


A   COOLNESS   BETWEEN   FKIENDS.  233 

fege  of  not  being  personally  bound  to  conform  to  the  ar- 
rangement, but  that  is  different  from  setting  aside  the  ar- 
rangement itself,  when  others,  perhaps,  would  like  to  con- 
tinue to  conform  to  it.  Don't  you  think  that,  after  we 
have  once  formed  a  plan,  we  had  better  persevere  in  ad- 
hering to  it,  especially  if  it  is  only  for  two  terms  ?" 

"  I  don't  see  any  need  of  being  so  very  particular  about 
it,"  replied  Dora. 

So  saying,  she  turned  her  head  a  little,  and  began  to 
look  out  of  the  window,  somewhat  hurt  that  Lawrence 
was  not  more  ready  to  yield  to  her  suggestions.  It  seem- 
ed to  her  very  hard  that  Lawrence  should  feel  so  little  in- 
terest in  her  as  to  consider  her  wishes  of  less  importance 
than  the  fate  of  a  miserable  programme.  So  she  turned 
toward  the  window  with  a  displeased  and  pouting  look — 
though,  to  do  her  justice,  it  must  be  admitted  that  she 
took  care  that  Lawrence  should  not  see  the  pouting. 

As  for  Lawrence,  he  thought  that  she  was  quite  unrea- 
sonable. His  scientific  love  of  system  and  steadiness  of 
action,  and  his  interest  in  the  habit  of  being  careful  about 
forming  plans,  and  of  then  being  faithful  and  persevering 
in  carrying  them  out,  made  him,  perhaps,  more  tenacious 
than  he  ought  to  have  been  in  insisting  upon  observing 
the  programme.  He  thought,  moreover,  that  he  had  been 
very  considerate  and  liberal  toward  Dora  in  allowing  her 
to  pay  as  much  or  as  little  attention  as  she  chose  to  the 
plan  herself,  and  that  it  was  now  very  unreasonable  in  her 
to  wish  to  override  and  disregard  it  entirely,  while  he  and 
John  wished  to  carry  it  out  according  to  the  original  in- 
tention. So,  when  Dora  turned  away  from  him,  he  remain- 
ed silent,  and  his  countenance  wore  a  somewhat  serious 
expression. 

Thus  these  two  amiable  companions  and  excellent  friends, 
as  they  had  been,  became  involved  in  quite  a  little  quarrel. 


23-."  THE    SALTNESS    OF   THE    SEA. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE    SALTNESS    OF   THE    SEA. 

THE  train  had,  in  the  mean  time,  come  to  a  stop,  and 
the  thoughts  of  both  Lawrence  and  Dora  were  diverted  a 
little  by  the  movements  and  changes  which  took  place  at 
the  station.  Now  the  first  step  to  be  taken  in  preparing 
people  to  become  reconciled  after  a  quarrel  is  to  divert 
their  minds  for  a  little  time  from  the  subject  of  the  disa- 
greement, so  as  to  allow  the  irritation  to  subside ;  just  as 
a  vessel  overtaken  by  a  storm  escapes  into  a  harbor,  if  she 
can,  and  lies  quietly  there  for  a  while,  to  allow  time  for 
the  agitation  of  the  sea  to  go  down.  If  you  were  to  find 
two  children  in  a  quarrel,  the  first  thing  to  be  done  is  not 
to  hear  their  several  stories,  but  to  turn  their  thoughts  to 
something  else.  Hearing  their  stories  only  keeps  the  sea 
up;  but,  by  diverting  their  thoughts,  time  is  allowed  for 
it  to  go  down,  and  then  better  thoughts  will  sometimes 
come  in  of  their  own  accord,  and  the  difficulty  will  come 
to  an  end  of  itself. 

This  is,  in  fact,  exactly  what  happened  in  the  case  of 
Lawrence  and  Dora.  They  sat  still  during  the  time  of  the 
stopping  of  the  train,  and  observed  the  movements  of  the 
passengers — some  going  out,  others  coming  in,  and  others 
still  changing  their  seats  as  vacancies  were  made,  in  order 
to  avoid  the  sun,  or  otherwise  to  make  themselves  more 
comfortable.  Then,  when  the  train  began  to  move  on 
again,  and  their  thoughts  came  back  to  themselves  and  to 
the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  placed  in  relation  to 
each  other,  the  momentary  excitement  had  subsided,  or, 
rather,  the  slight  irritation  had  become  allayed,  and  they 


A   LITTLE   CONSIDERATION   REQUIRED.  235 

were  both  prepared  to  take  a  more  sensible  view  of  the 
situation.  It  was  Dora,  however,  that  had  the  honor  of 
making  the  first  advances  toward  the  opening  anew  of  a 
good-natured  intercourse,  though  I  think  it  was  Lawrence 
who  was  most  to  blame. 

Not  to  blame  perhaps  exactly,  for  I  do  not  think  that 
either  of  them  could  be  considered  as  specially  in  fault. 
The  action  of  each  was  prompted  by  very  natural  im- 
pulses. Lawrence,  for  example,  acted  under  the  influence 
of  a  desire,  very  natural  and  proper  in  a  scientific  man,  to 
go  on  systematically  and  steadily  in  carrying  out  a  delib- 
erately formed  plan,  while  Dora,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
dominated  by  an  equally  powerful  and  perhaps  even  more 
natural  impulse,  namely,  the  pleasure  of  feeling  that  a  gen- 
tleman whom  she  liked,  and  who  was  sitting  beside  her 
as  a  traveling  companion  on  a  journey,  would  regard  her 
wishes  above  all  other  considerations  in  his  action  on  the 
way,  as  she  had  thus  far  imagined  that  Lawrence  would 
do.  Both  feelings  were  right  enough — or,  at  least,  there 
was  nothing  wrong  in  them;  but  neither  Lawrence  nor 
Dora  understood  the  nature  of  the  feeling  that  influenced 
the  other.  It  was,  however,  more  incumbent  on  Lawrence, 
as  a  scientific  man,  interested,  as  he  professed  to  be,  in  the 
phenomena  of  mind  as  well  as  in  those  of  the  material 
world,  to  understand  Dora,  than  for  Dora  to  understand 
him. 

Indeed,  woman  is  not  made,  in  general,  to  look  at  things 
in  the  cold  light  of  reason,  and  she  ought  not  to  be  held 
to  so  rigid  an  obligation  to  do  this  as  men.  Her  opinions 
and  her  desires  are  controlled  much  more  by  sympathy 
and  regard  for  those  she  loves.  And  it  is  a  great  deal 
better,  for  many  reasons,  some  of  which  are  very  obvious, 
that  it  should  be  so.  If  men  were  generally  more  fully 
aware  of  this  than  they  are,  they  would  be  less  surprised 


236  THE    SALTNESS    OF   THE    SEA. 

at  the  little  influence  that  what  they  consider  irrefutable 
logic  has,  when  they  offer  it,  upon  their  wives ;  and  boys, 
too,  would  change  their  tone  very  much  in  the  discussions 
which  they  often  get  into  with  their  sisters  and  mothers. 

Lawrence  therefore,  I  think,  ought  to  have  understood 
this,  though  there  is  this  to  be  said  in  excuse  for  him,  that 
he  had  not  had  so  many  or  so  favorable  opportunities  for 
experimenting  upon  the  hearts  of  young  ladies  as  he  had 
upon  the  metals  and  gases,  and  other  material  substances 
in  his  laboratory.  However  this  may  be,  he  concluded,  on 
reflection,  that  he  had  only  proposed  the  programme  plan 
as  a  means  of  making  the  journey  pass  more  agreeably, 
and  that,  as  a  sensible  man,  he  ought,  when  he  found  that 
it  failed  of  that  object,  to  give  it  up  at  once.  So  he  was 
just  about  concluding  to  say  to  Dora  that  he  would  do  as 
she  wished,  when  she  anticipated  him  by  saying  what  she 
meant  to  be  taken  as  an  apology  for  wishing  to  alter  the 
programme. 

"  The  reason,"  said  she,"  why  I  wished  you  to  go  on  with 
your  lecture  another  half  hour  was  because  I  wanted  you 
to  tell  us  how  the  sea  comes  to  be  salt.  I  never  heard 
any  reason  given  for  that,  when  all  the  rivers  that  flow  into 
it,  and  all  the  rain  that  falls  into  it,  are  fresh." 

"  Yes,"  rejoined  Lawrence,  "  that  is  a  very  interesting 
subject,  and  I  was  just  going  to  say  that,  if  you  liked,  I 
would  go  on  with  my  lecture  about  the  sea  in  the  next 
half  hour.  The  programme  is  nothing,"  he  added.  "John 
and  I  don't  care  any  thing  at  all  about  our  programme 
compared  with  making  the  journey  pleasant  to  you." 

Dora  turned  back  now  fully  toward  Lawrence  again,  and 
said  that  she  liked  the  plan  of  the  programme,  and  did  not 
wish  to  have  it  disturbed. 

"  So  we  will  wait  for  the  question  of  the  saltness,"  she 
said,  "  until  the  next  time  for  a  lecture." 


IMPOST  ANT   DISTINCTION.  237 

"  Or,"  said  Lawrence,  "  we  can  take  it  up  now  in  conver- 
sation. You  know  this  is  the  term  for  conversation,  and 
I  can  tell  you  about  the  saltness  of  the  sea  just  as  well  in 
conversation  as  I  could  in  a  lecture." 

Dora  was  pleased  with  this  suggestion,  and  thus  her 
wish  to  learn  the  secret  of  the  saline  character  of  the  sea 
could  be  gratified  at  once,  while  the  regular  course  of  the 
programme  went  on  without  any  interruption. 

"  Do  you  recollect,"  said  Lawrence,  beginning  the  con- 
versation at  once,  "  do  you  recollect  ever  seeing  any  thing 
in  any  of  the  books  that  you  studied  at  school  that  ex- 
plained the  difference  between  solution  and  mechanical  sus- 
pension ?" 

"  What  kind  of  a  book  would  it  be  in  ?"  asked  Dora. 

"  It  might  in  a  work  on  chemistry,"  said  Lawrence. 

"  If  it  was  in  chemistry  I  must  have  studied  it,"  said 
Dora,  "  for  I  have  been  through  chemistry." 

"Do  you  understand  about  it,  John?"  asked  Lawrence. 

"No,"  said  John, "I  don't  know  any  thing  about  it.  I 
never  heard  the  words  before." 

"  When  any  substance  is  merely  mixed  with  water,"  said 
Lawrence, "  it  is  said  to  be  mechanically  suspended  in  it. 
As,  for  instance,  when  you  stir  up  fine  sand  in  water,  it  is 
only  mixed  with  it,  or  rather  suspended  in  it,  and  it  slow- 
ly subsides  to  the  bottom — more  or  less  slowly  according 
to  the  size  of  the  undissolved  particles.  There  is  no  inti- 
mate union  between  the  particles  of  the  sand  and  those  of 
the  water.  When,  however,  you  throw  powdered  sugar 
into  water,  and  stir  it  up,  at  first  the  grains  of  sugar  are 
only  mechanically  suspended  in  the  water.  They  make  it 
appear  turbid,  and  you  see  them  slowly  subsiding  toward 
the  bottom;  but  gradually  a  more  intimate  union  takes 
place  between  the  water  and  the  substance  of  the  sugar. 
The  grains  seem  to  grow  fewer  in  number  and  smaller  in 


238  THE   SALTNESS   OP  THE   SEA. 

size,  until  finally  they  all  disappear.  The  sugar  is  no  lon- 
ger mixed  with  the  water,  but  is  united  with  it  in  a  much 
more  intimate  way,  so  that  the  particles  of  it  no  longer 
make  the  water  appear  turbid,  and  no  longer  have  any 
tendency  to  subside.  In  such  a  case  we  say  that  the  sugar 
is  dissolved  in  the  water  instead  of  being  mechanically  sus- 
pended in  it,  and  we  call  the  combination  a  solution." 

"Yes,"  said  Dora, "I  suppose  I  must  have  known  that 
before." 

"  True,"  replied  Lawrence,  "  only  I  thought  I  would  ex- 
plain it  to  John.  Now  there  are  these  two  characteristics 
which  generally  mark  all  solutions ;  the  first  is,  that  the 
union  is  so  intimate  as  not  to  diminish  the  transparency  of 
the  liquid ;  and,  secondly,  that  the  substance  dissolved  has 
no  tendency  to  subside  through  the  liquid  and  settle  at 
the  bottom.  The  intimacy  of  the  union  seems,  as  it  were, 
to  hold  it,  so  as  to  prevent  all  tendency  to  subsidence. 

"  Thus,"  continued  Lawrence,  "  you  might  take  one  tea- 
spoonful  of  finely-powdered  sugar,  and  another  of  equally 
finely-powdered  chalk,  and  stir  them  up,  each  in  a  separate 
tumbler  of  water.  For  a  moment  the  two  tumblers  would 
present  nearly  the  same  appearance.  Both  would  be  filled 
with  water  rendered  turbid  and  nearly  opaque  by  white 
particles — solid,  though  extremely  minute — mechanically 
suspended  in  it.  In  a  short  time,  however,  the  fine  parti- 
cles of  sugar  would  begin  to  be  dissolved,  the  substance 
of  each  one  being  taken  up  by  the  water  immediately 
around  it.  As  fast  as  this  was  done  the  turbidness  in  that 
tumbler  would  disappear,  and  the  water  would  become 
quite  transparent ;  while  in  the  other,  the  milkiness,  or 
partial  opacity,  would  continue  until  every  particle  of  the 
chalk  should  have  time  slowly  to  descend  to  the  bot- 
tom." 

"And  how  long  would  that  take?"  asked  Dora.    "If 


LIMITS   OF  VISION.  239 

this  was  a  lecture  I  would  not  interrupt  it  to  ask  a  ques- 
tion ;  but  this,  you  know,  is  conversation." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Lawrence ;  "  and  you  are  at  liberty  to 
ask  questions  in  any  of  the  lectures,  if  you  choose.  But  as 
to  the  time,  it  would  depend  upon  the  degree  of  fineness  to 
which  the  chalk  was  pulverized." 

"  Suppose  it  was  made  perfectly  fine,"  said  Dora. 

"  There  is  no  such  thing  as  particles  being  made  perfect- 
ly fine,"  replied  Lawrence.  "They  might  be  so  fine  that 
to  our  sight  they  would  seem  to  be  mere  points,  or  even 
perfectly  invisible ;  but  in  that  case,  if  we  were  to  look  at 
one  of  them  with  a  microscope,  we  should  see  that  it  had 
a  sensible  bigness.  If  we  were  then  to  go  on  and  make 
them  finer  still,  so  that  they  should  appear  to  be  mere 
points  as  seen  in  this  microscope,  we  should  only  have  to 
employ  a  more  powerful  microscope  to  bring  out  a  sensi- 
ble bigness  again,  and  so  on  forever." 

"  Oh,  Lawrence  !"  said  Dora,  "  that's  impossible ;  we 
could  not  go  on  so  forever." 

"  No,"  rejoined  Lawrence, "  that  is  very  true.  We  should 
soon  come  to  the  limit  of  what  we  could  do  with  the  mi- 
croscope, but  we  should  not  come  to  the  actual  limit  of 
the  size  of  the  particles.  Now  the  finer  the  chalk  pow- 
der was  made,  the  longer  it  would  be  in  settling;  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  finer  the  sugar  powder  was  made, 
the  sooner  it  would  be  dissolved.  At  any  rate,  you  see 
clearly  the  difference  now  between  the  solution  of  any  sub- 
stance in  water  and  its  mere  mechanical  suspension  in  it." 

Both  Dora  and  John  said  they  did. 

"  Now  any  substance,"  continued  Lawrence, "  which  wa- 
ter is  capable  of  dissolving  is  said  to  be  soluble  in  water, 
while  those  which  it  is  not  capable  of  dissolving  are  said 
to  be  insoluble.  There  are  a  great  many  substances  in  na- 
ture which  are  soluble,  and  a  great  many  that  are  insolu- 


240  THE   SALTNESS   OF  THE   SEA. 

ble ;  and,  though  there  are  great  differences  between  these 
two  classes  in  respect  to  their  behavior  in  relation  to  wa- 
ter—" 

"Behavior !"  repeated  Dora,  laughing ;  "  who  ever  heard 
of  substances  that  have  no  life  behaving!" 

"Why,  the  substances  that  are  mechanically  suspended," 
rejoined  Lawrence, "  conspire  to  make  the  water  opaque, 
so  as  to  prevent  your  seeing  through  it,  while  those  that 
are  dissolved  hide  themselves  in  some  mysterious  manner 
out  of  the  way,  so  as  often  not  to  interrupt  your  vision  at 
all.  Then,  again,  one  kind  will  insist  on  going,  more  or  less 
slowly,  it  is  true,  but  still  as  fast  as  they  can,  to  the  bot- 
tom, while  the  others  remain  where  they  are,  without  any 
desire  or  tendency  to  change.  If  those  are  not  different 
kinds  of  behavior,  what  are  they?" 

"  Why,  they  don't  do  it  intentionally,"  said  Dora. 

"  True,"  replied  Lawrence, "  and  the  word  behavior  usu- 
ally implies  some  kind  of  voluntary  or  intentional  action ; 
so  I  wish  I  could  think  of  some  other  word  that  would  bet- 
ter express  lifeless  action.  But  what  I  was  going  on  to 
say,"  he  continued,  "  was  that,  though  the  two  classes  dif- 
fer frona  each  other  in  these  respects,  in  one  respect  they 
are  alike,  and  that  is,  that  when  the  water  evaporates  — 
that  is,  rises  in  vapor  into  the  air — they  both  remain  be- 
hind. 

"  The  particles  of  sugar,  for  example,  seem  to  cling  te- 
naciously to  the  particles  of  water  that  they  are  joined  to 
so  long  as  the  water  remains  liquid,  and  they  show  no  dis- 
position to  leave  them  and  go  to  the  bottom,  even  though 
they  may  be  decidedly  heavier  than  the  particles  of  wa- 
ter; but  when  the  water  from  the  surface  rises  in  vapor 
into  the  air,  the  particles  of  sugar  at  once  let  go  their 
hold  of  them  and  remain  behind." 

"And  what  becomes  of  them?"  asked  John. 


SOURCE  OF  THE  SALTNESS  OF  THE  SEA.      241 

"  They  join  themselves  to  other  water  that  is  nearest  to 
them,"  said  Lawrence,  "  and  after  a  time,  when  the  wa- 
ter that  remains  becomes  so  fully  charged  with  them  that 
it  will  hold  no  more,  then  they  separate  themselves  from 
it  by  crystallizing ;  that  is,  they  join  each  other  and  form 
solid  substances  again — doing  this,  moreover,  in  general, 
in  a  very  regular  and  mathematical  manner,  forming  crys- 
tals of  curious  forms,  and  more  or  less  transparent ;  where- 
as, on  the  other  hand,  the  particles  of  those  substances 
which  are  only  mechanically  suspended  in  the  water,  when 
they  subside,  come  together  at  the  bottom  in  a  confused 
manner,  just  as  they  happen  to  fall. 

"  And  now,"  continued  Lawrence,  "  we  are  prepared  to 
understand  something  of  the  cause  of  the  saltness  of  the 
sea,  or,  rather,  something  of  the  process  by  which  its  salt- 
ness  is  acquired  and  maintained.  It  so  happens,  as  we 
should  very  naturally  suppose  would  be  the  case,  that  out 
of  the  vast  number  of  substances  existing  in  nature,  some 
are  soluble  and  some  are  insoluble.  Among  the  soluble 
substances,  common  salt  is  by  far  the  most  abundant. 
We  know,  perhaps,  of  no  natural  reason  why  it  should  be 
so,  any  more  than  we  know  why  iron  should  be  more 
abundant  than  any  of  the  other  metals;  but  so  it  is.  Iron 
is  very  abundant,  while  gold  is  very  rare.  And  so  great- 
er quantities  of  common  salt  exist  in  nature  than  perhaps 
of  any  other  soluble  substance,  though  there  are  many 
others  existing  in  smaller  quantities.  Now  the  rains  and 
the  rivers,  in  flowing  over  the  surfaces  of  the  continents, 
wash  and  wear  away  the  soluble  and  insoluble  substances 
alike,  and  bear  them  onward  in  their  flow  toward  the  bed 
of  the  ocean." 

"  Then,  according  to  that,"  said  John,  "  the  rivers  ought 
all  to  be  salt." 

"So  they  are,"  replied  Lawrence.  "Strictly  speaking, 
t 


242  THE    SALTNESS   OP  THE   SEA. 

there  is  not,  probably,  a  river  of  fresh  water  in  the  world, 
if  we  mean  by  fresh  water  water  that  is  entirely  free  from 
salt  and  other  soluble  substances.  The  quantity  is  very 
small,  and  it  affects  the  taste  very  little,  but  it  is  always 
there,  and  it  can  easily  be  separated  and  measured  by 
proper  chemical  processes." 

Lawrence  was  undoubtedly  right  in  this  statement. 
Indeed,  the  water  of  a  great  many  different  rivers  and 
springs  has  been  analyzed  in  order  to  determine  the  char- 
acter of  it,  and  its  fitness  for  different  purposes.  The  pres- 
ence of  a  certain  portion  of  these  saline  substances  great- 
ly improves  it  for  drinking,  since  perfectly  pure  water, 
as  obtained  by  the  chemists  through  the  process  of  dis- 
tillation, is  very  insipid,  and  would  doubtless  be  far  less 
wholesome  than  natural  water.  Here,  for  instance,  is  the 
result  of  the  analysis  of  the  Croton  River,  which  supplies 
water  for  the  City  of  New  York,  showing  the  quantities 
of  the  various  substances  held  in  solution  by  it,  and  also 
the  amount  of  those  that  remain  mechanically  suspended 
in  it,  even  when  the  water  is  apparently  clear : 

Substances  held  in  Solution  and  mechanically  Suspended  in  the  Water  of 

the  Croton,  in  grains  and  parts  of  grains,  per  gallon. 
Carbonic  acid,  17.418  cubic  inches. 

Chloride  of  sodium  (common  salt) 0. 167 

Chloride  of  calcium 0.372 

Chloride  of  aluminium 0.166 

Sulphate  of  soda 0. 153 

Sulphate  of  lime 0.235 

Carbonate  of  soda 1.865 

Carbonate  of  lime , 2.131 

Carbonate  of  magnesia 0.662 

Phosphate  of  alumina 0.832 

Silica 0.077 

Substances  mechanically  suspended,  though  invisible,  6.660 


SALT   CAERIED   IN   BY   THE    EIVEES.  243 

The  waters  of  different  streams  and  springs  are  all  dif- 
ferent, owing  to  the  variety  of  the  substances  which  the 
different  currents  find  on  their  way  in  running  over  the 
ground,  or  percolating  among  the  strata  below.  In  some 
springs  the  quantity  of  salts  of  different  kinds  which  they 
contain  is  very  large,  so  as  to  give  the  waters  a  very  de- 
cided taste,  and  fit  them  to  produce  very  striking  medic- 
inal effects,  from  which  they  receive  the  name  of  medic- 
inal springs.  The  principle  is,  however,  the  same  in  all, 
and  that  is,  that  the  water  from  the  rain,  in  finding  its 
way  from  the  mountains  or  inland  plains  to  the  sea,  takes 
up  and  dissolves  all  the  soluble  substances  which  it  meets 
with  in  its  course ;  and  as  these  substances  have  no  tend- 
ency to  subside,  and  so  to  become  lodged  in  hollow  or 
stagnant  places  on  the  way,  they  are  borne  on  undimin- 
ished  in  quantity,  except  so  far  as  they  are  intercepted  by 
man,  and  deliver  all  their  supplies  of  soluble  matter,  to- 
gether with  such  portion  of  the  insoluble  matter  asthey 
have  been  able  to  retain  in  suspension,  to  the  sea  at  last. 

"  And  this  is  the  way,"  said  Lawrence,  after  he  had  ex- 
plained the  process  as  above  described,  "that  the  sea 
comes  to  be  so  salt.  Though  the  quantity  contained  in  a 
single  gallon  of  any  common  river  water  is  very  small,  the 
whole  amount  carried  in  by  all  the  rivers  in  the  world  is 
enormous." 

"Then,  of  course,  the  sea  must  be  growing  salter  and 
salter  all  the  time,"  said  Dora. 

"It  would  do  so,"  said  Lawrence,  "if  there  were  no 
counteracting  processes ;  but  there  are  many  ways  by 
which  the  sea  loses  its  salts,  and  it  is  not  impossible  that 
the  losses  and  gains  so  nearly  balance  each  other  that,  in 
the  present  age  of  the  world,  the  general  saltness  of  the 
ocean  is  not  undergoing  any  material  change." 

Dora  and  John  both  seemed  at  a  loss  to  imagine  in 


244  THE    SALTNESS    OF   THE    SEA. 

what  way  the  sea  could  lose  any  portion  of  its  salt,  since 
a  substance  dissolved  can  not  settle  to  the  bottom,  nor  go 
up  with  the  vapors  ascending  from  the  surface  into  the 
air. 

Lawrence  said  there  were  several  ways  by  which  a  por- 
tion of  the  salt  is  disposed  of. 

"In  the  first  place,  considerable  quantities,"  lie  said, 
"  were  taken  from  it  artificially  by  man,  by  evaporating  the 
water  in  great  shallow  vats,  made  of  wood  and  arranged 
in  rows,  with  movable  roofs  to  cover  them  when  it  rains. 
These  salt-works  are  sometimes  so  extensive  as  to  cover 
acres  of  ground.  The  quantity  of  salt  taken  out  in  this 
way  is,  however,  only  considerable  in  relation  to  the  wants 
of  man,  for  it  is  utterly  insignificant  in  respect  to  its  effect 
in  diminishing  the  quantity  in  the  sea. 

"  Then,  again,  there  are  certain  places  which  form  nat- 
ural evaporating  basins.  Suppose,  for  instance,  there  hap- 
pened to  be  an  extended  depression  in  the  land  near  the 
sea,  such  that,  when  the  sea  rose  to  a  great  height  occa- 
sionally by  the  combined  influence  of  a  high  tide  and  of  a 
storm,  the  barrier  was  overflowed  and  the  depression  filled. 
This  would  form  a  great  salt  lake ;  and  then,  if  for  many 
months  the  admission  of  more  water  from  the  sea  was  pre- 
vented, and  especially  if  it  was  in  the  region  of  tropical 
heat,  the  water  in  the  lake  would  be  evaporated,  and  the 
salt  which  it  contained  would  remain  in  the  form  of  a  layer 
of  minute  white  crystals  all  over  the  bottom  of  it.  If  now 
there  should  be  a  new  irruption  of  the  sea- water  to  fill  the 
lake  again,  succeeded  by  a  second  period  of  evaporation, 
there  might  be,  under  certain  circumstances,  an  accumula- 
tion of  layers  of  salt  from  year  to  year,  until  at  last  deep 
and  extended  beds  might  be  formed. 

"At  any  rate,  a  process  analogous  to  this  is  going  on  at 
the  present  time  along  the  shores  in  various  parts  of  the 


DIFFUSION   THROUGH   THE    AIE.  245 

earth,  and  in  some  places,  as,  for  instance,  at  Turk's  Island 
in  the  West  Indies,  the  deposition  of  salt  takes  place  so 
abundantly  that  enormous  quantities  of  it  are  gathered, 
and,  after  being  separated  from  the  other  soluble  sub- 
stances more  or  less  mixed  with  the  useful  salt,  is  export- 
ed to  all  parts  of  the  world. 

"  Besides  these  modes  of  disposing  of  a  portion  of  the 
salt  contained  in  the  sea,  a  vast  quantity  finds  its  way  into 
the  air  in  the  spray  blown  off  from  the  waves.  It  is  true 
that  a  soluble  substance  will  not,  in  general,  arise  in  sensi- 
ble quantities,  from  the  surface  of  a  liquid  with  which  it  is 
combined,  with  the  portion  of  the  liquid  which  takes  the 
gaseous  form  in  the  process  of  evaporation,  but  it  may  be 
borne  upward  in  exceedingly  minute  portions  of  the  liquid 
water  which  is  raised  by  the  winds  from  the  crests  of  the 
waves,  and  from  the  breakers  dashed  against  the  shore.  A 
great  portion  of  these  minute  globules,  forming  a  mist  or 
spray,  falls  at  once  back  into  the  water,  or  upon  the  ground 
near  the  shore,  but  some  portion  of  it  is  reduced  to  glob- 
ules a£  minute  as  the  finest  dust,  and  so  can  be  transported 
like  dust  to  vast  distances  by  the  wind.  Each  globule, 
though  so  extremely  minute,  is  still  composed  of  liquid  wa- 
ter, and  bears  with  it  its  minute  portion  of  salt,  and  by 
this  means  enormous  quantities  of  salt  are  taken  from  the 
ocean,  and  borne  backward  toward  the  land  whence  they 
came.  Traces  of  common  salt  in  the  atmosphere,  which 
are  supposed  to  be  supplied  from  this  source,  have  recent- 
ly been  detected  at  great  distances  from  the  sea  by  means 
of  that  new  and  wonderful  instrument,  the  spectroscope. 

"  The  quantity  of  salt,  and  of  other  soluble  substances, 
varies  very  much  in  different  portions  of  the  sea.  This, 
we  should  naturally  expect,  would  be  the  case.  Where  a 
large  river  of  fresh  water— that  is,  water  that  contains  very 
small  quantities  of  salt— enters  the  ocean,  it  freshens,  to  a 


246  THE    SALTNESS    OF   THE    SEA. 

certain  extent,  the  waters  on  the  surface  for  hundreds  of 
miles  around  its  mouth.  On  the  other  hand,  in  secluded 
bays,  and  especially  in  hot  climates,  where  a  rapid  and  con- 
tinued evaporation  goes  on,  there  is  found  to  be  a  very 
considerable  concentration  of  saline  elements  in  the  water. 

"  The  German  expedition,  which  was  sent  to  make  an  ex- 
ploring cruise  along  the  coast  of  Greenland  during  the  last 
year,  report  the  fact  that  they  found  the  water  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  sea  there,  in  many  places,  sensibly  freshened  to 
a  considerable  distance  from  the  shore  by  the  quantity  of 
fresh  water  brought  down  by  the  torrents  that  descended 
from  the  glaciers  which  bordered  the  coast  in  that  region. 

"But,  besides  the  natural  evaporating  basins  formed 
along  the  shores  of  the  sea  as  above  described,  there  are 
also,  in  various  parts  of  the  earth,  vast  depressions  in  the 
ground — some  of  them  being  sunk  far  below  the  level  of 
the  sea — which  the  rivers  flowing  from  the  surrounding 
country  have  partly  filled  with  water,  forming  great  lakes, 
from  which  there  is  no  outlet  into  the  ocean.  The  Caspian 
Sea  is  one  of  these  sunken  lakes.  The  great  Salt  Lake  in 
Utah  is  another ;  and  the  Dead  Sea,  a  still  more  striking 
example,  is  another.  Some  of  these  seas  have,  in  process 
of  time,  become  a  great  deal  more  salt  than  the  ocean,  for 
the  rivers  from  the  surrounding  country  are  all  the  time 
bringing  salt  into  them,  and  the  processes  for  eliminating 
it  which  is  in  action  in  respect  to  the  ocean  can  operate  in 
their  case  only  to  a  very  limited  extent." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  eliminate  ?"  asked  Dora. 

"  Why,  taking  them  out,"  said  John,  promptly. 

At  this  answer  to  her  question  by  John,  Dora's  counte- 
nance assumed  an  expression  somewhat  like  that  which  had 
marked  it  before  when  she  was  for  a  moment  displeased 
with  Lawrence.  Indeed,  John,  who  was  sitting  opposite  to 
her,  observed  something  like  a  pout  upon  her  lips,  though 


ELIMINATION.  247 

he  could  not  imagine  what  there  could  be  to  offend  her  in 
his  promptly  telling  her  what  she  herself  asked  to  know. 
But  the  truth  was  that  John  answered  the  question  in  a 
tone  that  seemed  to  imply  something  like  surprise  at  Dora's 
asking  it;  as  if  he  had  said,  "Why,  taking  them  out,  of 
course  !  any  body  might  know  that !"  Now  any  one  who 
has  studied  and  understands  the  laws  and  susceptibilities 
of  the  human  mind  knows  well  that  it  produces  a  some- 
what disagreeable  impression  upon  any  person,  especially 
upon  a  young  lady,  to  give  her  any  new  information,  or  to 
correct  any  mistake,  in  a  blunt  or  abrupt  manner,  and 
with  an  air  of  superiority,  or  to  do  it  in  any  way  that  has 
the  appearance  of  indicating  surprise  at  her  not  knowing 
better. 

On  the  other  hand,  John,  it  must  be  confessed,  was  some- 
times a  little  vain ;  indeed,  boys  of  his  age  are  very  apt  to 
indulge  in  a  little  self-conceit  as  they  find  their  knowledge 
increasing,  and  he  liked  now  and  then  to  show  off  what  he 
knew.  He  might  have  been  animated  by  some  such  feel- 
ing as  this  in  explaining  the  meaning  of  the  word  elimi- 
nated so  promptly. 

"  It  was  not  exactly  the  right  word  for  me  to  use,"  said 
Lawrence, "  for  it  is  a  kind  of  technical  term,  used  princi- 
pally in  mathematical  works,  and  a  lady  ought  not  to  be 
expected  to  understand  it.  It  is  used  more  in  some  of  the 
books  that  boys  study." 

Dora's  countenance  here  resumed  at  once  its  usual  good- 
natured  and  placid  expression.  Indeed,  the  feeling  which 
had  disturbed  her  equanimity  was  of  a  very  slight  and 
evanescent  character,  and  would  not  have  been  worthy  of 
even  this  notice  of  it  were  it  not  that  some  of  the  readers 
of  this  book  may  be  reminded  by  it  that  it  will  not  do  to 
be  abrupt  and  dogmatic,  or  to  assume  a  pretentious  and 
consequential  air  in  correcting  any  supposed  mistakes  of 


248  THE    SALTNESS    OP   THE    SEA. 

other  persons,  especially  in  the  case  of  ladies,  or  of  persons 
older  than  themselves,  or  in  giving  them  even  desired  in- 
formation. 

"  Which  is  your  real  name  anyhow  ?"  asked  John,  after 
a  moment's  pause  ;  "  is  it  Dora  or  Dorrie  ?" 

"  Neither,"  replied  Miss  Random ;  "  my  real  name  is  The- 
odora. They  call  me  Dora  or  Dorrie  for  shortness." 

"  And  which  of  those  do  you  like  best  for  a  short  name  ?;' 
asked  John. 

"I  hardly  know,"  she  replied.  "I  don't  care  much. 
Which  do  you  think  is  the  prettiest,  Mr.  Wollaston  ?"  she 
asked,  turning  to  Lawrence. 

"  They  are  both  pretty  names,"  replied  Lawrence, "  but 
I  think  I  like  Dora  the  best." 

"  I  do  too,  I  think,"  she  replied ;  "  and  so,"  she  added, 
turning  again  to  John, "  you  may  call  me  Dora." 


AN    ANALYSIS.  249 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

SOLUBILITY    AND   INSOLUBILITY. 

IT  is  possible  that  some  of  the  readers  of  this  book  may 
be  interested  in  certain  information  in  respect  to  sea-wa- 
ter which  is  a  little  more  minute  and  precise  in  its  charac- 
ter than  that  that  would  have  been  appropriate  for  Law- 
rence to  give  in  his  conversation  in  the  car.  According- 
ly, I  give  here  the  result  of  a  recent  analysis  of  sea-water 
taken  from  the  open  sea  near  the  entrance  to  the  English 
Channel.  It  shows  the  number  and  variety  of  the  soluble 
substances  contained  in  the  water,  and  the  different  pro- 
portions of  each.  At  the  head  of  the  table  stands  chloride 
of  sodium,  which  is  the  chemical  name  of  common  salt. 
Chemical  names  are  constructed  on  the  principle  of  show- 
ing, when  a  substance  is  a  compound,  what  its  constitu- 
ents are.  Thus  the  term  chloride  of  sodium  shows  that 
the  substance  denoted  by  it  is  a  compound  substance,  and 
is  composed  of  chlorine  and  the  metal  sodium.  And  so 
with  the  other  names  in  the  table. 

Stance,  ^W* 

Chloride  of  sodium 25.704 

Chloride  of  magnesia 2.905 

Sulphate  of  magnesia. 2.462 

Sulphate  of  lime 1.210 

Sulphate  of  potassa 0.094 

Carbonate  of  lime 0.132 

Silicate  of  soda 0.017 

Bromide  of  sodium 0. 103 

Bromide  of  magnesium 0.030 

Oxide  of  iron,  carbonate  and  phosphate  of  magne-  ) 

sia,  oxide  of  manganese,  etc ) 

32.657 
L2 


250  SOLUBILITY    AND    INSOLUBILITY. 

It  will  be  seen  by  the  table  how  very  large  the  quan- 
tity of  chloride  of  sodium  is  in  comparison  with  the  other 
soluble  substances  contained  in  the  water ;  for  while  there 
are  of  that  substance  more  than  twenty-five  parts  in  a 
thousand,  of  many  of  the  others  there  is  not  even  one  part 
in  a  thousand.  Of  silicate  of  soda,  for  example,  there  is 
only  1000  °f  a  part.  Of  some  other  substances  also,  men- 
tioned at  the  end  of  the  table,  only  traces,  too  minute  to 
be  measured  or  expressed,  were  discovered. 

When  a  similar  analysis  of  the  water  is  made  in  other 
seas,  and  even  in  other  parts  of  the  same  sea,  the  results 
vary  very  materially,  though  the  chloride  of  sodium,  or 
common  salt,  greatly  predominates  in  all.  In  the  inland 
seas,  those  which  seem  to  have  existed  for  the  longest 
time,  and  which  are  situated  in  regions  favorable,  on  ac- 
count of  the  prevailing  heat  or  other  causes,  to  rapid  evap- 
oration, the  water  has  become  sometimes  excessively  salt. 
Others,  from  the  operation  of  causes  yet  only  partially  as- 
certained, are  much  less  salt  than  the  ocean.  All  these 
inland  seas,  moreover,  vary  much  in  the  degree  of  saltness 
observed  at  different  seasons  of  the  year,  according  as  the 
waters  have  been  replenished  by  floods  from  the  rivers  in 
the  rainy  season,  or  reduced  and  concentrated  by  evapora- 
tion after  periods  of  long  exposure  to  the  sun. 

The  different  parts  of  the  ocean  also  vary  very  much  in 
this  respect,  according  to  the  relative  influence  in  different 
portions  of  it  of  great  rivers  flowing  in,  and  of  the  hot  sun 
in  evaporating  the  water,  and  thus  concentrating  the  solu- 
tion, and  also  on  the  course  and  direction  of  the  currents 
in  bringing  water  from  places  where  the  supplies  are  more 
or  less  impregnated  with  salts.  Thus  the  sea,  instead  of 
being,  as  many  people  imagine  it,  a  vast  reservoir  of  water 
of  the  same  kind,  lying  silent,  motionless,  and  forever  un- 
changed in  its  lower  depths,  and  even  upon  the  surface, 


PERMANENCE    OF   THE    SEA.  251 

except  so  far  as  the  surface  is  ruffled  by  the  winds,  is  real- 
ly a  most  complicated  and  intricate  melange  of  immense 
streams,  flowing  in  every  conceivable  direction;  of  cur- 
rents, counter-currents,  eddies,  and  vast  whirlpools  some- 
times a  thousand  miles  across,  and  all  conveying  portions 
of  water  of  greatly  varying  constitution  and  condition — 
warm  currents  and  cold  currents,  currents  very  salt  and 
currents  comparatively  fresh  —  and  all  winding  about 
among  each  other  in  a  system  of  movement  so  vast  in 
magnitude  and  extent  that  it  is  not  only  entirely  impossi- 
ble that  the  scene  which  it  presents  should  be  compre- 
hended within  the  range  of  human  vision,  but  it  also  en- 
tirely transcends  all  the  ordinary  powers  of  human  con- 
ception. 

Although  the  proportion  of  solid  matter  in  solution  in 
the  water  of  the  sea,  being  only  from  twenty-five  to  thir- 
ty-five parts  in  a  thousand,  seems  small,  yet,  on  account 
of  the  enormous  depth  of  the  liquid  holding  it,  the  whole 
quantity  is  very  great.  It  has  been  calculated  that  what 
is  contained  in  all  the  seas  would  form,  if  the  water  was 
evaporated  from  it,  a  stratum  sufficient  to  cover  the  Avhole 
surface  of  the  earth  to  a  depth  of  more  than  thirty-two 
feet! 

It  is,  however,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  impossible  that  the 
sea  should  ever  be  dried  up  while  the  present  order  of  na- 
ture continues ;  for  there  is  no  place  for  the  watery  vapor 
to  go  to  except  the  atmosphere,  and  the  atmosphere  con- 
tains at  present,  on  the  whole,  as  much  as  it  can  contain, 
and  it  is  continually  allowing  large  portions  of  that  which 
it  holds  to  fall  to  the  ground  in  rains;  so  that  all  that 
now  ever  enters  it  from  the  sea  is  destined  to  return  to 
the  sea  again  in  the  rivers  formed  by  the  rain  in  which 
the  vapors  descend  upon  the  land.  Thus  there  is  a  con- 
stant play  between  the  sea  and  the  land  in  respect  to  the 


252  SOLUBILITY    AND   INSOLUBILITY. 

circulation  of  water,  the  sea  sending  vast  and  continual 
supplies  of  water  in  vapors  to  the  land,  and  the  land  re- 
turning them  all,  in  due  time,  to  the  rivers  and  the  sea. 

There  is  one  thing  more  to  be  remarked,  and  that  is, 
that  in  addition  to  the  two  processes  which  Lawrence 
pointed  out,  tending  to  diminish  the  saltness  of  the  sea  by 
the  abstraction  of  a  portion  of  the  soluble  substances  con- 
tained in  it,  namely,  through  the  evaporation  of  the  water 
by  natural  or  artificial  means,  and  the  transportation  of 
portions  of  it  by  the  winds,  which  raise  and  bear  it  away 
from  the  crests  of  the  waves  in  an  impalpable  spray,  there 
is  one  other  mode  which  we  can  conceive  of  as  contribu- 
ting to  this  effect,  and  that  is  by  having  the  salt  decom- 
posed and  consumed,  as  it  were,  in  the  sea  itself.  Com- 
mon salt — as,  indeed,  is  the  case  with  all  the  other  soluble 
substances  contained  in  the  sea — is  a  compound  substance, 
being  formed,  as  has  already  been  said,  of  chlorine  and 
sodium.  Now  these  two  substances  may  be  separated  by 
artificial  means,  and  each  of  the  elements  may  be  com- 
bined with  other  substances,  so  as  to  form  a  great  number 
of  other  compounds ;  and  it  would  not  be  at  all  surprising 
if,  among  the  countless  processes,  both  chemical  and  vital, 
which  are  all  the  time  going  on  in  the  sea,  this  decompo- 
sition should  take  place  by  natural  means,  and  new  sub- 
stances be  produced,  some  of  which  might  be  insoluble, 
and  so  might  subside  to  the  bottom,  and  there  enter  into 
the  composition  of  the  strata  all  the  time  in  the  process 
of  formation  there.  Here  is,  therefore,  another  mode,  en- 
tirely different  from  those  mentioned  by  Lawrence,  by 
which  large  quantities  of  the  soluble  matters  contained  in 
the  sea  may  be  entirely  eliminated. 

We  may  also  suppose — if  such  a  process  of  decomposi- 
tion as  this  is  really  going  on  in  the  sea — that  there  may 
be,  in  compensation  for  it,  some  secret  transformation  con- 


CHANGE    AND   COUNTEKCHANGE.  253 

nected  with  the  chemical  actions  taking  place  on  land,  or 
with  the  phenomena  of  vegetable  or  animal  life,  by  which 
these  elements  may  be  recomposed,  and  thus  salt  formed 
from  them  anew.  Indeed,  if  the  former  supposition  should 
prove  true,  it  is  highly  probable  that  the  latter  would  be 
so  too ;  for  it  is  a  general  principle — indeed,  there  is  good 
reason  to  believe  that  it  may  be  a  universal  one  —  that 
wherever,  in  nature,  we  find  one  process  of  change  going 
on,  there  is,  in  some  place  and  at  some  time,  a  counter- 
process,  reversing  the  effect  of  the  first,  and  bringing 
things  back  substantially  to  their  pristine  condition.  For 
every  swelling  of  a  wave  above  the  general  level,  there 
must  be  a  corresponding  sinking  of  the  water  to  an  equal 
distance  beneath  it.  Every  tide  has  an  ebb  corresponding 
with  and  balancing  its  flow.  If  we  find  running  streams 
conveying  water  from  the  mountains  to  the  sea,  \ve  shall 
be  sure  to  find  somewhere  an  arrangement  for  conveying 
water  from  the  sea  back  to  the  mountains.  If  we  observe 
that  vegetation  gathers  sustenance  from  the  ground  and 
from  the  air  to  form  plants,  we  may  be  sure  that,  at  the 
right  time  and  in  the  proper  place,  we  shall  find  some 
process  in  action  for  restoring  this  sustenance  again  to  the 
ground  and  to  the  air  from  which  it  was  taken.  If  we 
see  waves  breaking  against  and  wearing  away  the  rocks 
along  the  shore,  we  may  pretty  safely  infer  that  there  must 
be  somewhere  processes  in  operation  for  the  re-formation 
of  rocks,  to  be  worn  away  again  in  their  turn.  If  we  see 
that  torrents,  avalanches,  glaciers,  and  frost  are  breaking 
down  and  wearing  away  the  mountains,  we  may  expect 
to  find  forces  somewhere  acting  to  upheave  the  strata  of 
rocks  for  the  formation  of  other  mountains,  to  take  the 
place  of  those  in  process  of  being  destroyed.  And,  finally, 
if  we  believe,  with  some  of  the  most  careful  and  most  sci- 
entific observers  of  the  present  day,  that  our  own  solar 


254  SOLUBILITY   AND   INSOLUBILITY. 

system,  and  all  the  other  similar  systems  which  seem  to 
fill  the  vault  of  heaven,  have  reached  their  present  condi- 
tion by  a  gradual  condensation  and  concentration  of  neb- 
ulous matter,  originally  diffused  over  an  immense  extent 
of  space,  and  that  the  process  of  gradual  approach  toward 
the  centre  is  still  going  on,  so  that,  in  time,  every  portion 
of  what  now  constitutes  the  system  shall  arrive  at,  and  be 
absorbed  in  the  centre,  we  may  reasonably  infer  that  there 
must  be  some  way  by  which  force  thus  concentrated  in 
these  centres — for  we  know  nothing  of  matter  except  as 
force,  or,  rather,  as  the  wholly  unknown  something  to 
which  we  refer  the  various  manifestations  of  force  that 
we  witness — may  be  again  radiated  and  diffused,  to  com- 
mence, at  a  future  time,  some  new  process  of  concentra- 
tion, at  some  new  point,  from  which,  after  going  through 
its  vast  cycle  of  reconstruction,  it  is  to  be  again  radiated, 
and  so  again  reconstructed,  in  a  never-ending  progression. 

As  every  action  has  its  equal  and  contrary  reaction  in 
mechanics,  so  every  process  seems  to  have  its  equal  and 
contrary  counteraction  in  nature ;  and  thus,  by  a  perpet- 
ual series,  as  it  wTere,  of  outgoing  and  incoming  waves, 
the  vast  movements  of  the  universe  go  on  in  one  eternal 
round.  It  is  ebb  and  flow,  influx  and  efflux,  systole  and 
diastole,  forever  and  ever.  All  the  processes  of  nature, 
when  viewed  on  a  great  scale,  seem  to  come  round,  though 
sometimes  by  a  vast  circuit,  to  the  condition  of  things  in 
which  they  began. 

But  to  return  to  the  water  of  the  sea.  Most  of  the  oth- 
er soluble  ingredients  which  it  contains,  as  well  as  the 
chloride  of  sodium,  are  compound,  and  they  have  all  been 
analyzed.  The  result  is  that  the  elementary  substances 
which  are  directly  or  indirectly  held  in  solution  by  the 
waters  of  the  sea  are  very  numerous.  The  following  is  a 
list  of  them,  so  far  as  at  present  ascertained : 


FORMATION   OF   ROCK   SALT.  255 

Elementary  Substances  contained  in  the  Water  of  the  Sea. 


Chlorine. 

Potassium. 

Silica. 

Nickel. 

Iodine. 

Calcium. 

Boracic  acid. 

Manganese. 

Bromine. 

Iron. 

Silver. 

Alumina. 

Sulphur. 

Fluorine. 

Copper. 

Strontia. 

Carbon. 

Phosphate  of 

Lead. 

Baryta. 

Sodium. 

Lime. 

Zinc. 

Magnesium. 

Ammonia. 

Cobalt. 

But,  however  the  fact  may  be  in  regard  to  the  recompo- 
sition  of  salt  by  natural  processes  at  the  present  day,  vast 
quantities  of  this  substance  —  vast,  I  mean,  in  relation  to 
the  conceptions  and  uses  of  man  —  are  found  existing 
among  the  strata  of  rocks,  sometimes  near,  and  sometimes 
far  below  the  surface,  in  various  parts  of  the  earth  ;  among 
rocks,  too,  which  seem,  from  their  constitution,  and  from 
the  fossils  which  they  contain,  to  have  been  formed  at 
some  ancient  time  beneath  salt  water.  Suppose,  for  exam- 
ple, that  the  Dead  Sea,  or  the  great  Salt  Lake  in  Utah,  or 
any  one  of  the  salt  ponds  formed,  as  has  already  been  de- 
scribed, by  the  evaporization  of  successive  quantities  of 
sea  water,  poured  over  into  them  at  intervals  from  the 
sea,  should,  in  process  of  time,  be  entirely  dried  up,  leav- 
ing the  salt  that  they  had  contained  in  a  stratum  at  the 
bottom  of  the  hollow  which  they  occupied.  Suppose  that 
afterward,  in  some  way  or  other,  by  the  flowing  in  of 
streams  from  the  land,  deposits  of  mud  should  be  made 
over  the  layers  of  salt,  or  that  mud  should  be  brought  in 
while  the  process  of  the  precipitation  of  the  salt  was  go- 
ing on ;  then  suppose  that,  by  some  change  of  level,  such 
as  is  abundantly  proved  to  be  often  taking  place  at  the 
present  day  in  every  part  of  the  earth,  the  process  of  tak- 
ing in  and  evaporating  sea  water  should  be  resumed  and 
continued  for  a  million  or  two  of  years,  and  that  these 
changes  should  go  on  in  alternation  for  a  very  long  period 


256  SOLUBILITY   AND   INSOLUBILITY. 

of  time,  and  the  whole  system  of  strata  so  formed  should 
at  length  gradually  subside,  and  be  covered  with  other 
strata  to  a  great  depth,  and  afterward  should  be  raised 
again  into  the  air,  and  in  time,  through  the  action  of  the 
elements,  a  soil  should  be  formed  upon  the  surface,  and 
vegetation  should  appear,  and,  finally,  that  the  formation 
thus  upraised  should  become  the  abode  of  animals  and 
man,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  in  such  a  case  man,  by  digging 
down  to  great  depths,  would  come  upon  these  strata  of 
salt,  in  alternation  or  combination  with  strata  of  sand  or 
clay — only  the  salt,  the  sand,  and  the  clay  would  all  have 
been  condensed  and  consolidated  by  the  immense  pres- 
sure, and  perhaps  by  the  action  of  other  causes,  into  strata 
of  solid  rock. 

And  if,  moreover,  the  water  from  the  rain  penetrating 
into  the  earth  on  more  elevated  land  were  to  percolate 
through  and  among  these  strata,  and  afterward  find  out- 
lets at  some  places  below,  they  would  appear  there  as  salt 
springs,  having  taken  up  a  portion  of  the  salt  in  their  pas- 


Now  there  are  found,  in  various  parts  of  the  earth,  de- 
posits of  salt  which  answer,  in  a  great  measure,  to  these 
conditions.  There  is,  in  a  certain  part  of  India,  a  very  ex- 
tended range  of  mountains,  called  the  Salt  Range,  which 
consist  of  various  strata  reposing  upon  foundations  of  salt, 
as  shown  in  the  opposite  engraving,  which  represents  one 
of  the  cliffs  of  the  range. 

Immense  quantities  of  salt  have  been  procured  from  this 
formation  for  the  uses  of  man. 

In  other  parts  of  the  earth,  especially  in  Europe,  strata 
of  salt  have  been  found  far  below  the  surface,  and  of  pre- 
cisely such  a  character  as  would  be  formed  by  a  process 
like  the  one  above  described.  In  some  cases,  the  solid  salt 
is  so  clean  and  pure  that  it  can  be  used  for  the  purposes 


A   CLIFF   OF   TUB   GttKAT   tiALT    RANGE. 


SALT   SPRINGS.  259 

of  man  just  as  it  is,  without  any  work  of  manufacture  ex- 
cept the  operation  of  pulverizing.  In  other  cases  it  is  so 
mingled  with  earthy  matters  that  it  is  necessary  to  dissolve 
it  out,  and  then  to  evaporate  the  water  again  so  as  to  pre- 
cipitate it  anew.  There  are  many  places  where  this  re- 
dissolving  of  the  salt  is  performed  by  a  natural  process 
through  the  percolation  of  water  from  the  rains  through 
the  strata,  and  coming  out  below  in  the  form  of  salt  springs, 
which  bring  what  seems  to  be  an  inexhaustible  supply  of 
brine  to  the  surface,  all  ready  to  be  evaporated  and  to  de- 
liver up  their  salt  for  the  use  of  man.  There  are  vast 
quantities  of  salt  water  thus  drawn  from  the  earth  by  wells 
and  springs  in  various  parts  of  the  earth,  and  salt  obtained 
from  it.  One  of  the  most  noted  localities  of  this  kind  is  at 
Salina,  in  New  York,  where  thousands  of  tons  of  salt  are 
annually  procured  by  the  evaporation  of  the  water. 

Thus  we  find  that  there  are  many  places  where  thin  lay- 
ers of  salt  are  interposed  or  mingled  with  other  strata  of 
which  the  crust  of  the  earth  is  composed.  "We  can  not 
say  certainly  how  they  came  there.  We  can  only  say  that 
they  present  every  appearance  of  having  been  formed  ages 
ago  by  a  process  very  analogous  to  those  by  which  simi- 
lar deposits  are  being  formed  now.  They  are  thin  layers. 
They  alternate  with,  or  are  mingled  with  layers  of  such 
earthy  substances  as  would  naturally,  according  to  the 
analogy  of  processes  now  going  on,  be  deposited  with  them 
or  upon  them ;  and  they  seem  to  have,  in  all  respects,  the 
character  and  composition  of  deposits  from  the  waters  of 
the  sea. 

When  I  say  that  the  layers  are  thin,  I  mean,  of  course, 
that  they  are  thin  in  relation  to  the  magnitude  of  the  earth 
and  to  the  syste.ni  of  strata  of  which  they  form  a  part. 
They  are,  in  fact,  often  extremely  thick  in  relation  to  the 
ideas  and  conceptions  of  man,  some  of  them  being  hun- 


260  SOLUBILITY    AND   INSOLUBILITY. 

dreds  of  feet  in  thickness.  But  this,  in  reference  to  the 
magnitude  of  the  earth  and  of  the  great  geological  system 
of  which  they  form  a  part,  would  not  be  equal  to  the  thin- 
nest conceivable  sheet  of  tissue  paper  on  a  globe  several 
feet  in  diameter. 

Still,  the  question  whether  these  subterranean  accretions 
of  salt  were  really  deposited  in  some  former  ages  from  the 
sea  has  been  a  subject  of  great  discussion.  There  are  cer- 
tain appearances  which  have  been  thought  to  indicate  that 
they  must  have  had  some  other  origin,  such  as  that  no  re- 
mains or  traces  of  any  marine  animals  are  found  in  them — 
though  such  traces  may  be  found  in  the  strata  connected 
with  them — and  that  they  have,  in  general,  only  a  slight 
admixture  of  the  numerous  other  salts  which  are  at  the 
present  day  combined  in  sea  water  with  the  chloride  of  so- 
dium. In  a  word,  in  respect  to  this  case,  as  in  regard  to 
a  great  many  other  questions,  there  is  much  to  be  said  on 
both  sides. 

But,  whatever  the  origin  of  these  subterranean  deposits 
of  salts  may  have  been,  they  are  found  existing  abundant- 
ly in  many  parts  of  the  earth,  and  mines  by  which  they 
have  been  reached  have  been  worked  from  very  early  times. 
These  mines  are  often  very  deep,  and  the  excavations  which 
have  been  made  in  them  are  very  extensive.  Indeed,  in 
former  times,  before  the  means  of  diifusing  correct  infor- 
mation— so  abundant  at  the  present  day — had  any  exist- 
ence, the  most  extravagant  stories  were  circulated,  and 
generally  believed,  in  regard  to  life  in  these  subterranean 
regions.  It  was  said  and  believed  in  other  countries  that 
the  excavations  were  so  vast,  so  deep  beneath  the  surface 
of  the  ground,  and  were  inhabited,  moreover,  by  so  large  a 
population,  that  families  lived  there  from  generation  to 
generation  without  ever  coming  up  to  see  the  light  of  the 
day ;  that  they  had  villages  and  towns  there,  and  churches, 


SALT   MINES.  263 

and  schools,  and  roads,  and  streams  of  fresh  water ;  that 
children  were  born  there,  and  people  married,  and  were 
sick,  and  died  and  were  buried,  just  as  in  any  social  com- 
munity above  the  ground. 

Of  course,  all  these  tales  were  fabulous.  Still,  the  ex- 
cavations which  have  been  made  by  miners  in  following 
out  the  layers  of  salt — leaving  columns,  of  course,  at  regu- 
lar intervals  to  support  the  superincumbent  rocks — have 
been  carried  so  far  that  the  extent  of  the  subterranean 
chambers,  and  of  the  ascending  and  descending  passages 
from  one  layer  to  another  of  the  salt,  has  become,  in  some 
cases,  immense,  and  some  of  the  mines  are  objects  of  great 
curiosity  to  visitors. 

Indeed,  it  is  often  much  more  easy  and  agreeable  to  visit 
them  than  to  descend  into  other  mines  on  account  of  the 
comparative  dryness  of  them,  and  the  ideas  of  purity  and 
salubrity  associated  with  the  crystalline  substance  which 
so  generally  forms  the  walls  of  the  galleries  and  chambers. 
In  some  cases  in  these  mines,  large  vaulted  chambers  have 
been  formed,  and  masses  of  the  salt  have  been  carved  into 
statues  and  other  massive  figures  to  adorn  them;  and  in 
these — brilliantly  illuminated  for  the  occasion  —  parties, 
balls,  and  other  celebrations  have  sometimes  been  held  in 
honor  of  the  visit  of  some  prince  or  potentate  to  the  mine. 

Lawrence  explained  all  these  things  to  Dora  and  John 
in  the  course  of  the  two  lectures  and  the  two  periods  of 
conversation  which  occurred  in  the  first  two  courses  of  the 
programme.  They  all  kept  silence  during  each  of  the  si- 
lent half  hours,  and  they  found  that  the  rest  which  they 
enjoyed  at  these  times  was  not  only  agreeable  in  itself, 
but  it  also  prepared  them  to  enjoy  their  conversation  all 
the  more  when  the  time  came  for  resuming  it.  Indeed, 
they  found  these  periods  of  silence  so  agreeable,  that,  at 
Dora's  suggestion,  they  continued  to  observe  that  part  of 


264  SOLUBILITY   AND   INSOLUBILITY. 

the  programme  all  the  rest  of  the  day ;  that  is,  during  ev- 
ery third  stage  made  by  the  progress  of  the  train,  it  was 
the  understanding  that  they  were  to  ride  in  silence  and 
rest.  They  might,  of  course,  read  if  they  chose  during  these 
periods,  and  they  were,  moreover,  not  held  to  so  strict  a 
compliance  with  the  rule  as  to  prevent  their  speaking  if 
they  had  any  thing  special  that  they  wished  to  say. 

In  respect  to  the  question  of  the  formation  of  the  beds 
of  salt  brought  to  view  in  the  salt  mines,  Dora  said  that 
she  did  not  believe  that  they  ever  came  from  the  drying 
up  of  the  sea  water. 

"  It  would  take  too  much  time,"  she  said.  "  Think  of 
layers  of  solid  salt  hundreds  of  feet  thick  !" 

"  Yes,"  rejoined  Mr.  Wollaston,  "  and  a  great  many  of 
them  lying  one  over  the  other,  with  thick  strata  of  common 
rocks  between  !" 

"It  is  impossible  that  there  could  be  time  enough  for 
them  all  to  come  from  the  drying  up  of  the  sea  water 
in  ponds,  and  the  slow  settling  of  muddy  particles  over 
them." 

"And, besides  all  that,"  said  Lawrence,  "several  thou- 
sand feet  of  rocky  strata  above  them,  before  you  get  to  the 
top  of  the  ground  !" 

"  Yes,"  said  Dora,  "  it  is  impossible  that  there  could  be 
time  enough  for  all  by  the  mere  drying  up  of  water.  I  be- 
lieve they  were  made  so." 

"So  do  I,"  replied  Lawrence.  "I  believe  they  were 
made  so,  but  the  question  is  whether  they  were  made  so 
by  a  word  of  command  or  by  a  process.  Every  thing  in- 
dicates that  they  were  made  by  some  kind  of  process." 

"  But  it  could  not  have  been  by  this  process,"  replied 
Dora ;  "  it  would  take  such  an  immensely — immensely — 
long  time." 

"  Well,"  replied  Lawrence,  "  there  has  been  time  enough 


PERIODS    OF   GREAT   DURATION.  265 

for  any  thing  in  all  the  past  eternity.  There's  absolutely 
no  limit  to  it." 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Dora,  "  there  must  be  a  limit,  because 
there  must  have  been  a  beginning." 

"  Why  must  there  have  been  a  beginning  ?"  asked  Law- 
rence. 

"  Why  ? — why,  what  a  question !"  said  Dora.  "  Of  course, 
there  must  have  been  a  beginning  of  creation  some  time  or 
other." 

"Do  you  suppose  there  was  ever  any  beginning  of  dura- 
tion ?"  asked  Lawrence. 

"  Do  you  mean  time  by  duration  ?"  asked  Dora. 

"  The  word  time,"  replied  Lawrence,  "  is  generally  used 
to  denote  some  definite  portion  of  duration,  and,  of  course, 
there  must  be  a  beginning  to  any  such  definite  portion. 
But  if  we  use  the  word  time  in  the  more  general  sense,  to 
denote  duration  simply,  can  you  imagine  that  there  was 
ever  any  beginning  of  time  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Dora. 

"  And  can  you  imagine  that  there  could  ever  have  been 
a  time  when  the  creative  power  might  not  have  been  ex- 
erted?" 

Dora  admitted  that  she  could  not. 

"Then,"  rejoined  Lawrence,  "it  would  seem  that  it  is 
not  necessary  to  suppose  that  there  was  ever  any  begin- 
ning of  the  exercise  of  creative  power.  In  other  words, 
we  may  say  that  we  can  not  conceive  of  any  time  before 
which  creative  power  might  not  have  been  exercised." 

Dora  did  not  answer.  She  did  not  seem  to  know  exact- 
ly what  to  say. 

"  It  is  very  probable,"  continued  Lawrence, "  indeed,  per- 
haps, there  is  no  doubt  that  there  was  a  beginning  to  the 
formation  of  this  world,  and  of  the  sidereal  system  of  which 
it  forms  a  part.  If  so,  it  must  have  been  at  a  period  incon- 
M 


266  SOLUBILITY    AND    INSOLUBILITY. 

ceivably  remote.  But  we  seem  to  have  no  ground  for  say- 
ing that  there  ever  was  a  beginning  to  the  creative  agency 
of  the  supreme  and  eternal  power,  whatever  our  ideas  may 
be  of  the  nature  of  the  agency  and  of  the  power." 

Now,  while  Lawrence  had  been  saying  these  things  to 
Dora  and  John,  he  had,  in  fact,  though  almost  without  be- 
ing himself  aware  of  it,  a  third  listener.  This  listener  was 
a  woman  who  was  sitting  upon  the  seat  directly  before  the 
one  which  John  occupied.  She  was  of  about  middle  age, 
and  was  plainly  dressed.  While  Lawrence  had  been  talk- 
ing she  had  turned  her  head  a  little  to  one  side,  so  as  to 
hear  what  he  was  saying,  though  Lawrence  had  scarcely 
observed  the  movement.  She  now,  however,  turned  round 
more  fully,  and  said, 

"And  yet  there  must  have  been  a  beginning  of  every 
thing,  for  ihe  Bible  says  that  'In  the  beginning  God  cre- 
ated the  heaven  and  the  earth.' " 

"  That  is  very  true,"  said  Lawrence. 

He  then  paused  a  moment,  as  if  he  was  thinking  of  what 
the  woman  had  said. 

Now  Lawrence,  in  the  course  of  his  observations  and  re- 
flections on  the  workings  of  the  human  mind,  had  learned 
that  when  any  one,  especially  a  lady,  oifers  an  objection  to 
any  thing  that  has  been  said,  it  is  best  to  receive  it  and 
consider  it  respectfully,  and  not  meet  it  at  once  and  blunt- 
ly with  some  rebutting  reply,  as  if  it  was  not  worth  a  mo- 
ment's thought.  If  you  are  going  to  reply  to  any  thing 
which  another  person  says,  your  reply  will  have  far  great- 
er weight  and  influence  with  him  or  her  if  you  first  pause 
sufficiently  to  show  that  you  have  really  understood  and 
appreciated  the  objection,  as  if  you  thought  it,  at  least, 
worthy  of  consideration ;  and  the  best  way  to  appear  to 
do  this  is,  in  all  cases,  really  to  do  it. 

"In  the  beginning,"  said  Lawrence,  repeating  the  words 


VAIN    SPECULATIONS.  267 

which  the  woman  used,  as  if  considering  them ;  "  that 
Bhows  that  there  was  certainly  a  beginning  of  some  sort. 
But  is  the  beginning  that  is  referred  to  in  that  verse  the 
beginning  of  the  heavens  and  earth,  or  the  beginning  of 
God?" 

"  Oh,  the  beginning  of  the  heavens  and  earth,  of  course,'"' 
said  the  woman. 

"And  between  the  beginning  of  the  heavens  and  the 
earth  and  the  beginning  of  God  there  must  have  been  a 
long  time,"  said  Lawrence. 

"  There  was  no  beginning  of  God,"  said  the  woman ;  "  he 
has  existed  from  all  eternity." 

"Yes,"  rejoined  Lawrence;  "that  is  true  undoubtedly, 
and  so  I  must  change  the  question.  I  ought  to  have  said, 
Before  the  beginning  of  the  heavens  and  earth  there  was  a 
very  long  period  of  time  during  which  God  existed." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  woman, "  a  whole  eternity." 

"Arid  so  the  question  comes  up,"  continued  Lawrence, 
"  whether  during  all  that  time  he  might  not  have  been 
employed  in  other  acts  of  creation  that  we  know  nothing 
about.  "VVe  perhaps  can  not  say  certainly  that  there  were 
any  such  previous  acts,  but  I  don't  know  that  we  can  any 
more  certainly  say  that  there  were  not.  What  do  you 
think  about  it  ?  I  presume  that  you  may  have  thought 
of  these  things  more  than  I  have,  though  you  are  not  so 
very  much  older  than  I  am." 

"Older  than  you  !"  said  the  woman  ;  "I  am  old  enough 
to  be  your  mother,  or  your  grandmother,  for  aught  I 
know." 

"  Oh  no  !  I'm  older  than  you  think,"  said  Lawrence. 

"  And  Pm  older  than  you  think,"  said  the  woman,  laugh- 
ing. And  with  these  words  she  turned  round  again  in  her 
seat,  and  said  no  more. 


268 


LIFE    IN    THE    SEA. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

LIFE      IN     THE      SEA. 

THERE  are  a  great  many  different  ways  in  which  new 
strata — which  are  to  become  ultimately  strata  of  rocks — 
are  formed  in  the  depths  of  the  sea.  Two  of  these,  name- 
ly, the  slow  deposition  of  substances  mechanically  sus- 
pended, and  the  crystallization  of  soluble  substances  by 
the  evaporation  of  the  water,  have  already  been  described. 
But  there  are  some  others,  even  more  curious  and  won- 
derful, that  are  connected  with  life  in  the  sea. 

The  sea  seems  to  be,  in  fact,  the  great  mother  of  all  life. 
There  is  some  reason  to  suppose  that  even  those  forms  of 
animal  and  vegetable  existence  which  are  now  entirely 
confined  to  the  land  are  derived  from  forces  which  had 
their  origin  in  the  sea.  At  any  rate,  at  the  present  time, 


FORMS   OF    I.IF 


RADIATE    ANIMALS.  269 

the  vast  expanse  of  water  swarms  every  where  with  life 
in  a  hundred  thousand  forms.  These  forms  lie  or  creep 
along  the  bottom  and  in  its  lowest  depths ;  they  float  and 
swim  in  its  currents ;  they  rise  and  fall  with  its  tides ; 
they  fringe  its  shores ;  and,  in  the  extreme  northern  and 
southern  regions,  where  the  effects  produced  by  the  inten- 
sity of  the  cold  seem  to  render  impossible  even  the  tempo- 
rary presence  of  man,  this  life  thrives  and  multiplies  itself 
in  its  most  minute  and  also  in  its  most  prodigious  forms, 
and  in  as  great  an  exuberance  as  it  any  where  attains. 

In  a  large  portion  of  the  animals  that  live  upon  the 
land  the  limbs  and  organs  are  arranged  in  pairs  on  each 
side  of  a  median  line,  or,  rather,  plane,  making  the  body 
symmetrical  in  its  two  sides  only.  There  are  large  classes 
of  marine  animals,  on  the  other  hand,  in  which  the  limbs 
or  organs,  or  lines  of  construction,  radiate  in  every  direc- 
tion from  a  central  axis.  A  conspicuous  example  of  this 
is  seen  in  the  starfish  and  others,  as  represented  in  the  op- 
posite engraving.  The  sunfish,  the  sea-egg,  so  called,  and 
vast  multitudes  of  smaller  animals,  such  as  those  which 
form  sponges  and  corals,  have  the  same  structure.  They 
constitute  the  vast  class  called  radiata,  or  radiates,  from 
the  circumstances  that  the  members  and  organs  radiate 
on  all  sides  from  a  central  axis,  instead  of  being  arranged 
in  pairs  on  each  side  of  a  medial  plane. 

It  was  for  a  long  time  thought  that  this  abundance  of 
life  developed  by  the  sea  was  confined  within  moderate 
distances  from  the  surface,  and  that  at  great  depths  no  liv- 
ing organisms  could  exist.  Indeed,  very  little  was  known, 
until  quite  recently,  of  the  condition  of  things  at  these 
great  depths.  In  the  first  place,  there  were  no  means  of 
obtaining  any  trustworthy  information  on  the  subject; 
and,  in  the  second  place,  there  was  no  sufficient  object  in 
obtaining  it  to  stimulate  the  discovery  or  invention  of  the 


270  LIFE    IX    THE    SEA. 

means.  But  the  progress  of  science  within  the  past  few 
years  has  made  a  total  change  in  both  these  respects. 
The  invention  of  the  telegraphic  system  has  made  it  very 
important,  in  reference  to  the  material  interests  of  man, 
that  every  thing  in  relation  to  the  condition  of  things  at 
the  bottom  of  the  ocean  should  be,  as  far  as  possible,  as- 
certained, on  account  of  the  bearing  which  such  informa- 
tion may  have  on  the  construction  and  the  laying  down 
of  deep-sea  cables;  and  then,  in  the  second  place,  the 
progress  of  scientific  discovery  and  invention  has  furnish- 
ed the  means  of  obtaining  this  information.  Most  curious 
and  wonderful  instruments  have  been  devised  for  deter- 
mining the  direction  and  force  of  the  currents,  the  temper- 
ature of  the  water,  the  character  and  condition  of  the  sub- 
stances forming  the  bottom  at  very  great  distances  from 
the  surface,  and  thus  of  procuring  a  vast  amount  of  in- 
formation which  was  wholly  unattainable  by  any  known 
methods  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  In  those  days,  all 
that  could  be  done  was  to  let  down  a  heavy  body  until 
its  weight  was  insufficient — being  counteracted,  as  it  was, 
more  and  more,  as  it  descended,  by  the  friction  of  the 
line  through  the  water — to  produce  any  sensible  sinking, 
which  was  not  very  far,  and  then  to  bring  up,  by  means 
of  some  tallow  in  a  hollow  at  the  end  of  the  weight,  an 
impression  of  the  rocks,  or  a  small  specimen  of  the  sand  or 
shells,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  bottom,  if  it,  indeed, 
reached  any  bottom  before  its  power  of  continuing  to 
draw  out  the  line  failed  any  longer  to  produce  a  sensible 
effect.  The  process  of  sounding  by  this  method  in  deep 
water  was  very  tedious.  Sometimes  the  lead,  after  run- 
ning out  one  or  two  hundred  fathoms  of  line  very  rapidly, 
would  descend  more  and  more  slowly  for  some  hours,  un- 
til at  length  motion  would  become  almost  imperceptible, 
and  it  would  finally,  at  least  not  vmfrequently,  become  im- 


DIFFICULTIES    OF   SOUNDING.  271 

possible  to  decide  whether  the  weight  was  still  sinking  or 
had  already  reached  the  bottom ;  for,  after  descending  for 
half  a  mile  or  more,  the  friction  of  the  line  through  the 
water  becomes  so  great  that  the  sinking  tendency  of  the 
lead  is  scarce  sufficient  to  overcome  it;  and  when  the  lead 
finally  reaches  the  bottom,  the  set  of  the  water  one  way 
or  the  other,  at  great  depths  below  the  surface,  often  has 
an  effect  upon  the  line  sufficient  to  continue  to  draw  it 
out.  Thus  it  often  happened,  when  this  method  of  sound- 
ing was  employed,  that,  after  the  process  had  gone  oa  for 
some  hours,  the  observers  on  board  the  ship  found  it  im- 
possible to  determine  the  moment  when  the  lead  ceased  to 
draw  upon  the  line. 

Then  the  difficulty  of  drawing  up  the  lead  again  from 
the  bottom,  when  the  bottom  was  reached,  was  extreme; 
and  when  the  depth  became  very  great,  it  was  insurmount- 
able ;  for  the  lead,  in  addition  to  its  weight,  was  retarded 
in  its  ascent  by  its  friction,  and  by  that  of  a  long  portion 
of  the  line  attached  to  it,  so  that  the  line  was  often  brok- 
en, notwithstanding  the  extreme  pains  taken  to  manufac- 
ture lines  of  the  greatest  possible  degree  of  combined 
strength  and  fineness.  The  loss  of  the  lead  was  of  little 
consequence,  but,  in  such  cases,  all  the  time  spent  in  mak- 
ing the  observations  was  lost,  for  there  were  no  means 
of  determining  what  was  the  depth  that  was  really  at- 
tained. 

To  remedy  this  difficulty,  a  plan  was  devised  by  an  in- 
genious naval  officer  for  using  a  very  heavy  weight  for  a 
sinker,  and  leaving  it,  or  the  largest  portion  of  it,  at  the 
bottom,  when  it  reached  it,  so  that  the  drawing  out  of  the 
sounding  line,  as  the  plummet  descended,  might  be  more 
decided  and  more  rapid,  and  the  work  of  recovering  the 
line,  together  with  a  small  specimen  of  what  was  found  at 
the  bottom,  be  made  comparatively  easy.  The  contrivance 


272 


LIFE    IN   THE    SEA. 


consists  of  a  ball,  with  a  round  bar  passing  loosely  through 
it,  but  supported  by  a  perforated  strap,  B,  Fig.  1,  and  by 
cords  attached  to  movable  arms  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
bar,  so  that,  when  the  lower  end  of  the  bar  touched  the 
bottom,  and  the  line  above  became  slackened,  the  ball 
should  descend  and  unhook  itself  from  C  C,  Fig.  2,  and  al- 
low the  bar  to  be  drawn  up  alone,  Fig.  3. 

A  specimen  of  the  material  found  upon  the  bottom  was 


BBOOKES*   BOTODINQ   APPABATUS, 


THE    ELECTRIC    METHOD.  273 

brought  up  in  the  lower  end  of  the  bar,  as  in  the  end  of 
the  lead  by  the  old  method. 

A  great  many  other  contrivances  for  reaching  great 
depths  have  been  tried,  and  have  been  more  or  less  suc- 
cessful. As  an  example  of  these,  I  will  describe  one  which 
is  now  under  consideration  or  upon  trial.  It  is  the  inven- 
tion of  William  P.  Trowbridge.  It  is  called  the  electric 
method,  as  the  result  is  obtained  by  means  of  an  electric 
communication  made  by  the  weight  to  the  observers  in 
the  ship  through  a  very  fine  metallic  wire  extending  from 
the  ship  to  the  bottom.  This  wire  is  made  exceedingly 
fine,  and  instead  of  being  drawn  through  the  water  as  the 
weight  descends,  is  simply  left  in  it;  for  it  is  wound  in  a 
compact  coil,  which  is  inclosed  in  a  case  that  is  connected 
with  the  plummet,  and  is  so  arranged  that,  as  the  plum- 
met descends,  the  wire  is  un wound,  and  simply  left  in  the 
water.  Thus  the  wire  does  not  operate  to  retard  the  mo- 
tion of  the  plummet  or  sinker,  as  the  line  of  the  old-fash- 
ioned sounding-lead  did,  by  giving  it  a  constantly  increas- 
ing length  to  drag  through  the  water  the  deeper  it  went. 
The  descent  of  the  plummet,  therefore,  by  this  electric 
method  may  be  supposed  to  be  uniform,  and,  as  the  rate 
of  this  descent  is  known,  the  time  which  is  occupied  by  it 
will  be  a  correct  measurement  of  the  depth.  When  the 
plummet  reaches  the  bottom,  the  sudden  stoppage  of  it  is 
made,  by  a  suitable  contrivance,  to  send  an  electric  com- 
munication up  through  the  whole  length  of  the  wire  to 
the  observers  on  board  the  ship.  Thus,  by  knowing  how 
far  the  plummet  would  sink  in  a  minute,  and  observing 
how  many  minutes  elapse  between  the  time  that  the  plum- 
met is  let  go  and  the  coming  back  of  the  electric  signal, 
the  depth  is  at  once  determined. 

Mr.  Trowbridge  thinks  that,  at  great  depths,  it  will  be 
necessary  to  abandon  the  whole  apparatus,  sinker,  wire, 
M2 


274  LIFE    IX    THE    SEA. 

and  all,  after  each  sounding ;  but  the  method  may  be  very 
economical  for  all  that,  on  account  of  the  time  that  it  will 
save ;  for  every  hour  that  a  ship  is  kept  at  sea,  employed 
in  such  observations,  is  attended  with  very  great  expense, 
while  the  whole  apparatus,  even  including  the  several 
miles  of  fine  wire,  when  manufactured  in  quantities,  would 
not  be  very  costly. 

By  means  of  various  kinds  of  apparatus  for  making, 
soundings  like  those  above  described,  and  others,  and  also 
by  certain  special  contrivances  for  dredging,  by  which  still 
larger  quantities  of  what  lies  upon  the  bottom  is  brought 
up  to  the  surface,  the  depth,  and  other  characteristics  of 
the  sea-bottom,  have  been  studied  very  extensively  by  dif- 
ferent governments  of  Europe  and  America  within  a  few 
years  past,  and  a  vast  amount  of  information  has  been 
gained  in  respect  to  the  grand  processes  which  are  all  the 
time  going  on  within  and  beneath  the  water.  Some  of 
the  general  results  of  these  explorations — in  relation,  par- 
ticularly, to  the  influence  of  life  in  furnishing  the  mate- 
rials, and  in  effecting  the  accumulation  and  arrangement 
of  them  in  the  formation  of  strata  beneath  the  waters — 
are  now  to  be  given. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  of  the  processes  by  which 
mineral  formations  beneath  the  sea  result  from  the  action 
of  life  is  that  by  which  coral  reefs  and  islands  are  pro- 
duced. There  is  a  great  family  of  marine  animals,  called 
polyps,  which  secrete,  that  is,  form  within  the  body  a  solid 
mineral  substance  called  coral,  which  consists  chiefly  of 
carbonate  of  lime.  Now  carbonate  of  lime  is  the  main 
constituent  of  marble  and  limestone,  so  that  the  coral  is 
of  the  nature  of  rock.  The  various  species  of  these  ani- 
mals live  together  in  vast  communities,  in  various  portions 
of  the  sea,  where  the  water  is  of  a  certain  depth,  and  as 
the  successive  generations  die,  each  one  leaves  behind  it, 


CORAL   ISLANDS.  277 

as  it  were,  the  stony  structure  which  it  has  occupied  or 
possessed  during  its  lifetime,  and  thus  the  mineral  forma- 
tion slowly  increases,  in  the  lapse  of  ages,  until  ranges  of 
rock  of  immense  extent  are  formed. 

There  are  several  things  very  curious  in  respect  to  the 
causes  which  determine  the  position  and  extent  of  these 
formations.  It  seems  the  animals  can  only  commence  their 
work  where  the  water  is  of  a  certain  depth — not  greater 
than  from  eighty  to  one  hundred  feet.  They  find  the 
right  depth,  of  course,  generally,  at  a  certain  distance  from 
any  sloping  shore,  and  so  these  coral  formations  often  as- 
sume the  character  of  a  range  of  reefs  at  a  little  distance 
from  the  land.  In  reading  accounts  of  voyages  in  the  Pa- 
cific Ocean,  we  often  find  that  the  navigator  follows,  with 
his  vessel,  a  long  line  of  these  reefs,  seeking  an  opening 
by  which  he  may  pass  in  to  the  sheltered  water  between 
it  and  the  shore.  The  position  of  the  reefs  shows  itself  by 
the  line  of  foam  formed  by  the  roll  of  the  sea  breaking 
against  them. 

When  these  structures  rise  to  the  surface  of  the  water, 
the  cm-rents  of  the  sea,  in  process  of  time,  lodge  sea-weed 
and  drift-wood  upon  them,  which,  by  their  decay,  form  a 
kind  of  soil.  The  sea-birds  alight  upon  the  land  thus 
formed  and  drop  seeds  upon  it,  and  sometimes  even  the 
winds  and  waves  waft  seeds  to  it  from  some  neighboring 
shore.  In  process  of  time,  that  which  was  merely  a  range 
of  reefs  rising  up  around  some  submerged  rock  or  shoal 
from  which  the  bottom  sloped  somewhat  regularly  all 
around,  becomes  a  circular  island,  covered  with  luxuriant 
vegetation,  and  inhabited  by  many  species  of  land  ani- 
mals. Islands  thus  formed  are  very  numerous  in  the  Pa- 
cific Ocean.  They  are  called  atolls.  They  present  a  very 
remarkable  appearance,  and,  for  a  long  time,  not  only  the 
navigators  who  discovered  them,  but  the  whole  scientific 


278  LIFE    IN    THE    SEA. 

world,  were  very  much  at  a  loss  to  determine  by  what 
means  they  were  produced. 

Besides  these  islands,  the  circular  form,  of  which  is  de- 
termined by  the  gradual  shoaling  of  the  water  in  every 
direction  from  some  central  rock  or  sand-bank,  so  that  the 
right  depth  for  the  work  of  the  coral  animals  is  reached 
on  every  side  at  the  same  distance  from  a  centre,  the  coral 
formations,  where  the  condition  of  the  bottom  favors  it, 
extend  sometimes  in  right  lines  for  great  distances.  There 
is,  in  one  case,  a  reef  of  this  kind  which  extends  for  1200 
miles  along  the  coast  of  Australia,  at  a  distance  of  from 
twenty-five  to  fifty  miles  from  the  shore.  In  other  cases, 
on  account  of  slow  risings  or  sinkings  of  the  bottom  of 
the  ocean,  such  as  are  found  to  be  constantly  occurring  in 
various  portions  of  the  earth's  crust,  the  region  of  depth 
suitable  for  the  works  of  the  polyps  moves,  and  the  prog- 
ress of  the  coral  structures  moves  with  it,  so  that  in  time 
immense  areas  are  covered  with  these  formations.  If,  in 
the  progress  of  the  vast  changes  of  level  which  sometimes 
takes  place,  these  strata  were  to  be  covered  with  beds  of 
sediment  which  should  afterward  harden  into  rocks,  and 
then,  at  the  great  depths  to  which  they  should  sink,  they 
should  be  exposed  to  great  heat,  while,  at  the  same  time, 
they  were  subject  to  the  enormous  pressure  of  the  super- 
incumbent rocks,  they  might  assume  a  crystalline  struc- 
ture, and  all  traces  of  their  organic  origin  might  disap- 
pear; and  then,  if  at  any  subsequent  period  the  crystalline 
rocks  so  formed  should  be  raised  to  the  surface,  and  the 
superincumbent  strata  be  worn  away,  strata  very  similar 
to  the  marbles  and  limestones  now  found  in  various  parts 
of  the  land  might  appear. 

It  is  true  that  the  imagination  is  staggered  in  the  at- 
tempt to  conceive  of  the  immense  duration  required  for 
such  changes  as  these. 


FORMATION    OF    GUANO.  279 

There  is  another  very  remarkable  way  by  which  strata 
of  limestone  rocks  may  be  formed  beneath  the  waters  of 
the  sea  by  the  action  of  living  beings.  To  make  the  pro- 
cess clear,  let  us  suppose  that  there  is  in  some  part  of  the 
world  an  island  which  is  occupied  by  millions  of  birds,  that 
build  their  nests  and  raise  their  young  upon  the  island  for 
thousands  of  generations  without  being  disturbed  by  man 
Now  if  the  island  thus  inhabited  were  situated  in  a  region 
where  rain  fell  from  time  to  time,  it  is  plain  that  there  could 
be  no  considerable  accumulation  of  any  of  the  remains  of 
animal  life.  All  that  was  soluble  in  these  relicta,  of  every 
kind,  would  be  dissolved  by  the  water  falling  upon  them, 
and  most  of  that  which  was  not  soluble  would  soon  be  re- 
duced to  powder  by  the  process  of  disintegration  and  de- 
cay, and  would  either  be  blown  away  or  washed  away ; 
while  any  portions  of  it  which  might  remain  would  help 
to  form  a  soil  on  which  plants  and  trees  would  grow  and 
thrive,  and  which,  in  their  decay,  would  add  fresh  materi- 
als to  it,  so  that,  in  some  cases,  a  considerable  depth  offer- 
tile  ground  would  result,  which  would,  however,  contain 
very  few  traces  of  the  various  living  forms  which  had  com- 
bined to  produce  it. 

If,  however,  on  the  other  hand,  the  supposed  island  were 
to  be  situated  in  a  region  where  rain  never  or  very  seldom 
falls,  so  that  there  should  be  no  water  to  dissolve  or  wash 
away  the  remains,  in  process  of  time  an  immense  accumu- 
lation might  result.  This  has  actually  taken  place  on  many 
islands,  especially  on  the  coast  of  Peru,  where  there  is  scarce- 
ly ever  any  rain.  The  accumulation  of  the  material  left 
by  the  birds  in  the  countless  ages  that  have  passed,  mingled 
with  fish-bones  and  other  remains  of  their  food,  portions  of 
nests,  fragments  of  egg-shells,  and  many  other  substances, 
have  formed  deposits  hundreds  of  feet  deep.  The  lower 
portions  of  the  mass  thus  formed  becomes  compressed  by 


280  LIFE    IN  THE    SEA. 

the  weight  of  what  is  above  till  it  assumes  almost  the  so- 
lidity of  rock.  This  is  the  guano  of  commerce ;  and  inas- 
much, as  might  naturally  be  expected,  it  possesses  extraor- 
dinary fertilizing  qualities,  it  is  quarried  in  immense  quan- 
tities at  the  islands  where  it  is  found,  and  transported  in 
ships  to  every  part  of  the  world. 

The  value  of  guano  as  a  fertilizer  depends  upon  the  fact 
that,  on  account  of  the  absence  of  rain,  the  soluble  sub- 
stances contained  in  the  remains  of  these  countless  genera- 
tions of  birds  are  all  preserved.  When  there  is  rain,  all 
such  substances,  wherever  they  are  deposited,  are  dissolved 
and  carried  away,  and  the  components  of  them,  together 
with  many  others  which  are  not  soluble,  are  often  deposit- 
ed in  plains  and  valleys  below,  where  they  help  to  form  a 
fertile  soil. 

Now  in  cases  analogous  to  this,  that  is,  cases  where 
many  successive  generations  of  the  same  animal  occupy 
the  same  spot,  not  on  islands  or  mountains  rising  into  the 
air,  but  beneath  the  waters  of  the  sea,  the  result  will  be 
different  in  this  respect,  namely,  that  all  the  soluble  sub- 
stances contained  in  these  animal  remains  will  be  dissolved 
and  borne  away  by  gentle  currents,  W7hile  only  the  solid 
and  insoluble  substances  would  remain.  If,  for  example, 
we  suppose  a  community  of  oysters  to  occupy  the  same 
region  for  a  few  hundred  thousand  years,  we  can  conceive 
that  the  fleshy  portions  of  each  animal  might  decay  and 
be  dissolved,  or  be  devoured  by  other  animals,  while  the 
shells  would  remain.  These  shells  might,  in  process  of 
time,  form  beds  of  vast  extent  and  thickness,  and  after- 
ward, by  changes  of  level,  and  by  being  made  subject  to 
the  action  of  great  heat  and  great  pressure,  become  strata 
of  rock,  having  little  resemblance  to  the  oyster-shells  from 
which  they  were  formed,  except  in  the  nature  of  the  ma- 
terial— that  is,  the  carbonate  of  lime,  of  which  they  would 
be  found  to  be  chiefly  composed. 


CHARACTER    AND    ORIGIN    OF  CHALK.  283 

It  has  been  found  recently,  by  means  of  the  soundings 
and  dredgings  referred  to  in  the  first  part  of  the  chapter, 
that  precisely  this  process  is  going  on  all  the  time  at  the 
present  day  in  various  parts  of  the  deep  sea — not  by  oys- 
ters, indeed,  but  by  other  animals,  with  shells  so  minute  as 
to  be,  in  some  cases,  quite  microscopic.  These  animals, 
however,  minute  as  they  are,  are  produced  in  such  count- 
less millions  that  their  shells  cover  the  bottom  of  the  sea, 
in  certain  places,  at  great  depths,  to  such  an  extent,  and 
the  time  during  which  it  would  seem  that  the  process  has 
been  going  on  and  will  continue  to  go  on  is  so  vast,  as  to 
make  it  probable  that  deposits  of  immense  extent  and  of 
great  thickness  must  be  finally  produced  mainly  by  the  ac- 
cumulation of  these  microscopic  shells. 

Now  there  are  lying  in  various  parts  of  the  earth,  far 
above  the  level  of  the  sea,  immense  beds  of  chalk,  the  sub- 
stance of  which,  when  examined  under  the  microscope,  pre- 
sent every  indication  of  its  having  been  formed  in  a  man- 
ner analogous  to  this.  And  it  is  now  generally  believed, 
by  those  who  are  competent  to  judge  of  the  evidence,  that 
they  were  actually  so  formed  at  the  bottom  of  some  an- 
cient sea,  and  by  the  action  of  some  subterranean  force 
were  subsequently  raised  to  their  present  position. 

The  extent  and  thickness  of  these  beds,  and  many  par- 
ticulars in  respect  to  the  formation  of  them,  are  revealed 
to  us  in  many  places  where  they  have  been  undermined, 
and  brought  to  view  by  the  action  of  the  sea. 

The  examples  given  in  this  chapter  are  only  specimens 
of  the  immense  variety  of  modes  by  which  strata  of  rocks 
are  now  in  process  of  formation  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea — 
some  by  the  deposition  of  sedimentary  matter  brought  by 
streams  of  water  from  the  land,  and  some  by  vast  accumu- 
lations of  the  structures  built,  or  of  layers  of  shells  or  oth- 
er reliquiae  deposited  by  innumerable  forms  of  animal  life, 


284  LIFE    IX   THE    SEA. 

and  some  by  both  these  processes  combined.  And,  besides 
these  results  of  animal  action,  there  are  forms  of  vegetable 
life  existing,  immense  in  number  and  variety,  in  the  sea, 
and  these  have  sometimes  great  effect  in  modifying  the 
composition  and  character  of  the  strata  deposited.  But 
they  do  not  produce  effects  so  marked  and  decided  as  those 
resulting  from  animal  deposits,  inasmuch  as  the  substances 
which  compose  them  are  usually  more  soluble  in  their  de- 
cay, and  the  materials  which  result  from  the  decomposition 
of  them  are  more  combined  with  the  water — to  be  sepa- 
rated again,  and  then  recombined,  by  the  vital  force  or  prin- 
ciple, into  other  forms,  or  other  generations  of  the  same 
form,  in  an  endless  round. 

Some  sea-weeds  grow  attached  to  the  rocks,  or  rooted  in 
the  sand  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  Others  float  upon  the 
surface,  drawing  their  nourishment  from  the  water  around 
them  by  means  of  organs  adapted  to  the  purpose,  without 
any  roots  properly  so  called.  They  are  supported  by  floats 
in  the  form  of  bladders  of  air,  which  appear  along  the 
stems  and  other  parts  of  the  plant.  There  is  a  part  of  the 
Atlantic  Ocean  where  these  plants  grow  so  luxuriantly  that 
they  cover  the  whole  surface  for  hundreds  and  even  thou- 
sands of  miles  in  such  quantities  as  sei'iously  to  impede 
the  motion  of  the  ships  that  pass  through  them.  The  tract 
is  called  sometimes  the  Sea  of  Sargassa.  Columbus  passed 
through  this  weed-covered  region  on  his  first  voyage  to 
America,  and  he  said  that  the  sea  presented  there  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  vast  floating  meadow.  The  plants  are  found, 
when  examined,  to  be  inhabited  by  great  numbers  of  mi* 
nute  shell-fish  and  other  animals,  so  that  all  together  the 
region  thus  occupied  forms  a  living  world  of  vast  extent 
and  of  most  wonderful  character. 

A  recent  voyager  describes  this  vegetation  as  "  forming 
a  mass  of  coral-covered  branches,  throwing  out  graceful 


SEA-WEED. 


• 

285 


EOIMEN    OK   FLOATING   SEA-WEED   FBOM   THE   SEA   OF   6ARC!ASBA. 


sprays,  which  bore  delicate  translucent  leaves,  lanceolate, 
serrate,  and  of  a  pale  reddish-yellow  color,  bearing  berries 
of  a  lighter  hue,  spherical  and  hollow,  which  acted  like  so 
many  little  air-bladders,  giving  buoyancy  to  the  mass. 
Large  numbers  offish  gather  around  these  weeds  to  prey 
upon  the  minute  varieties  of  Crustacea  with  which  they 
are  covered." 


286  LIFE    IN    THE    SEA. 

Thus,  though  it  is  in  a  much  greater  degree  through  the 
action  of  animal  than  of  vegetable  life  that  the  sea  forms 
the  various  mineral  strata  to  be  afterward  built  into  the 
solid  crust  of  the  earth,  it  is  not  impossible  that  plants, 
through  the  enormous  accumulation  of  their  remains,  may 
aid,  in  some  degree,  in  furnishing  the  supplies  for  these  vast 
formations. 


INSTABILITY    OF   THE    EAKTIl's    CRUST.  287 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

UPHEAVAL. 

To  the  ordinary  observation  of  mankind  nothing  can 
seem  more  solid  and  immovable  than  the  substratum  of 
rock  which  forms  the  foundation  on  which  the  land,  with 
all  the  farms,  and  fields,  and  forests  that  diversify  its  sur- 
face, repose.  It  is  now  well  ascertained, however,  that  the 
whole  of  this  vast  crust,  fixed  as  it  seems  to  us,  is  seldom, 
and  perhaps  never  in  any  place,  absolutely  at  rest,  but  is 
subject  to  incessant  motions  —  motions  which  are  some- 
times fitful  and  sudden,  and  sometimes,  moreover,  contin- 
uous and  slow  to  such  a  degree  as  to  be  wholly  impercep- 
tible to  all  ordinary  observation,  but  which,  by  the  lapse 
of  time,  produce  very  striking  effects. 

An  example  of  these  striking  effects  sometimes  pro- 
duced by  the  disruptions  and  dislocations  resulting  from 
such  causes,  in  regions  where  they  are  not  soon  concealed 
by  soil  and  vegetation,  is  given  in  the  following  engrav- 
ing, which  represents  a  view  among  the  rocks  and  moun- 
tains of  Iceland. 

We  can  obtain  a  general  idea  of  the  nature  of  the  mo- 
tions to  which  the  earth's  solid  crust  is  thus  subject  by 
observing  those  which  take  place  during  the  winter  in  the 
ice  which  forms  upon  the  surface  of  a  small  and  shallow 
pond  in  a  meadow.  When  the  pond  is  first  frozen  over 
in  the  fall  the  surface  is  smooth,  and  the  ice  that  is  formed 
appears  fixed  and  immovable ;  but  as  the  cold  increases, 
and  the  stratum  of  ice  thickens,  the  expansion  which  al- 
ways takes  place  in  water  as  it  becomes  transformed  into 


EFFECTS   OF   T7THEAVAL. 


ice  crowds  the  edges  outward  on  every  side  against  the 
shore,  and  produces  in  various  places  bulgings  and  fissures 
of  very  considerable  magnitude  compared  with  the  extent 
and  thickness  of  the  icy  stratum.  Then,  moreover,  as  the 
cold  increases  in  intensity  during  the  course  of  the  winter, 
the  upper  portion  of  the  ice  contracts  again  ;  for,  though 
the  water  swells  in  the  process  of  freezing,  the  ice  itself, 
once  frozen,  afterward  shrinks  again  in  proportion  to  the 
intensity  of  the  cold.  The  shrinking  produces  at  length 
a  state  of  tension,  which  is  finally  relieved  by  a  crack  run- 
ning across  the  sheet  of  ice — the  ringing  sound  of  such  a 
crack  being  often  heard  in  an  intensely  cold  winter  night. 


HILLS    AND    VALLEYS.  289 

The  result  of  all  these  expansions,  contractions,  and  frac- 
tures is  that  the  margin  of  the  ice,  all  around  the  shores 
of  the  pond,  and  sometimes  along  lines  through  the  mid- 
dle of  it,  is  thrown  into  ridges  and  bulging  protuberan- 
ces, with  crevasses  and  caverns  left  here  and  there,  which 
must  appear,  to  any  minute  insect  creeping  about  among 
them,  very  much  like  the  mountains,  and  elevated  plains, 
and  vast  crevasses,  and  ranges  of  cliffs  by  which  the  sur- 
face of  the  earth  is  so  much  diversified. 

It  seems  very  probable  that  many  of  the  ranges  of  ele- 
vated land  and  lines  of  valleys  to  be  observed  upon  the 
globe  at  the  present  day  have  been  formed  by  changes 
and  perturbations  in  the  earth's  crust  somewhat  analo- 
gous in  their  character  to  these  movements  of  the  ice  in 
the  pond  supposed. 


HILLS  AND  VALLEYS  PEODCOED  BT  UrHEAVAL. 

That  these  changes  are  now  constantly  taking  place  in 
various  parts  of  the  earth,  either  by  the  gradual  lifting  or 
subsiding  of  the  strata,  or  by  sudden  uprisings  or  sinkings 
in  connection  with  the  action  of  earthquakes  and  volca- 
noes, is  abundantly  proved.  There  are  in  Italy,  on  the 
borders  of  the  sea,  in  a  volcanic  region,  the  ruins  of  an  an- 
cient temple,  the  foundations  of  which  have  been  alter- 
nately raised  and  lowered  many  feet  within  a  few  centu- 
ries, the  floor  of  it  having  been  left,  at  its  last  movement, 
below  the  level  of  the  water.  It  is  ascertained  by  marks 
IT 


290  UPHEAVAL. 

of  the  action  of  the  sea  and  of  marine  animals  on  the  col- 
umns, that  the  floor  of  the  temple  was  at  one  time  nearly 
thirty  feet  lower  than  it  is  now. 

There  are  abundant  proofs  of  similar  elevations  and 
subsidences  in  various  other  parts  of  the  world.  There  is 
conclusive  evidence  that  the  shore  line  of  continents  is  in 
many  places  slowly  rising,  and  in  others  slowly  sinking — 
I  mean  by  sloicly  an  inch,  for  example,  in  ten  years.  Such 
a  movement  would  be  altogether  unobserved  by  the  in- 
habitants, but  in  ten  thousand  years  would  result  iu  a  sub- 
sidence or  an  upheaval  of  nearly  a  hundred  feet.  Accord- 
ingly, in  some  places,  as,  for  example,  along  the  shores  of 
Nantucket,  Martha's  Vineyard,  and  Cape  Cod,  the  stumps 
of  ancient  trees  are  found,  with  their  roots  in  their  natural 
position,  many  feet  below  the  level  of  the  lowest  tides. 
Indeed,  whole  cities  are,  in  some  cases,  found  partially  sub- 
merged by  the  slow  subsidence  of  the  rocky  strata  which 
form  the  foundation  of  the  land  on  which  they  were  built. 
In  some  places  a  kind  of  tilting  movement  is  slowly  go- 
ing on — the  coast  on  one  side  of  an  island  slowly  rising, 
while  on  the  other  side  it  is  slowly  subsiding;  and  along 
the  same  coast,  the  land  at  one  place  is  found  to  be  gradu- 
ally moving  upwards,  and  the  sea  to  be  receding,  while  a 
few  hundred  miles  distant  the  movement  is  in  a  contrary 
direction,  causing  the  sea  gradually  to  encroach  upon  the 
land. 

Nor  are  these  movements  always  slow.  In  the  case  of 
earthquakes,  and  of  volcanic  throes  and  convulsions,  the 
land  is  often  suddenly  raised  or  depressed  to  the  extent 
of  several  inches,  and  even  feet,  over  a  very  wide  region, 
as  if  the  strata,  after  being  brought  to  a  state  of  severe 
tension  by  the  action  of  some  mighty  force,  gave  way  in 
some  part,  like  the  ice  upon  a  pond  in  a  very  cold  night, 
thus  relieving  the  tension  by  a  crevice  or  fissure  running 


EFFECTS    OF   ANCIENT   CHANGES.  291 

rapidly  along  the  formation.  Sometimes,  by  these  sudden 
movements,  chasms  are  opened  in  the  strata  of  rocks,  or 
long  lines  of  coasts  subside,  or  tracts  of  land  sink — the  de- 
pression being  filled  with  water,  and  forming  a  lake. 

That  these  changes  of  level  have  been  going  on  for  an 
indefinite  period  is  proved  by  phenomena  to  be  observed 
in  every  part  of  the  earth's  surface.  Ancient  beaches  and 
ranges  of  cliffs,  evidently  the  work  of  the  sea,  are  observed 
far  inland;  crevices  are  found  every  where  in  the  most 
solid  rocks,  and  in  mines,  where  these  crevices  occur,  the 
strata  of  rock  on  one  side  are  often  found  to  have  fallen 
down,  or  those  upon  the  other  to  have  been  pushed  up,  so 
that  the  corresponding  portions  of  the  formation  on  the 
opposite  sides  of  the  "  fault,"  as  the  miners  call  it,  are  not 
in  a  line  with  each  other. 

There  are  a  great  many  other  phenomena  to  be  ob- 
served in  different  parts  of  the  earth,  showing  that  the 
strata  which  form  its  crust  have  been  subject  for  ages  to 
the  same  motions  which  are  now  found  continually  taking 
place ;  and  it  is  now  generally  supposed  that  all  the  phe- 
nomena of  mountains,  valleys,  ravines,  chasms,  cliffs,  and 
precipices  to  be  observed  upon  the  earth's  surface  have 
been  produced  by  the  accumulated  effects  of  motions  no 
more  violent  and  rapid  than  those  that  are  now  taking 
place  throughout  the  world  —  motions  sometimes  result- 
ing from  the  action  of  slow  but  immensely  powerful  pres- 
sures, and  sometimes  produced  by  sudden  and  violent  con- 
cussions, under  which  the  earth  quakes,  and,  even  cities 
are  destroyed. 

It  is  plain  that  such  motions  as  these,  whether  equable 
and  slow,  or  spasmodic  and  sudden,  if  long  enough  con- 
tinued, are  capable  of  producing  effects  of  any  imagina- 
ble magnitude.  The  loftiest  mountains  might  in  time  be 
raised  in  this  way,  and  the  widest  crevasses  opened ;  and, 


292  UPHEAVAL. 

were  it  not  for  the  action  of  water,  the  effect  of  these  up- 
heavals and  subsidings  would  be  seen  every  where  in  cre- 
vasses, dislocations,  fractures,  and  swelling  elevations,  all 
distinctly  and  sharply  defined ;  but  the  effect  of  water, 
both  in  the  form  of  ice  and  of  running  streams,  and  in  all 
the  various  modes  of  action  which  it  assumes,  is  to  smooth 
and  soften  all  asperities,  to  round  off  ridges,  to  widen 
crevices  into  valleys,  to  corrode  naked  rocks,  and  form  a 
soil  upon  them  capable  of  sustaining  vegetation;  and  thus 
to  change  the  harsh  and  barren  aspect  which  Avould  be 
produced  by  the  simple  upheaval  and  fracture  of  the  rocky 
strata,  or  their  erosion  along  the  coast  by  the  rough  ac- 
tion of  the  sea,  into  varied  landscapes,  clothed  with  ver- 
dure and  beauty. 

When  the  portion  of  the  land  which  is  subject  to  the 
erosive  action  of  the  sea  is  covered  with  strata  of  sand  or 
gravel  upon  which  the  processes  of  vegetation  can  form  a 
fertile  soil,  plants  increase  and  multiply  upon  it,  and  these 
tend  to  hold  the  soil,  and  to  prevent  any  farther  erosion. 
And,  finally,  when,  in  process  of  time,  man  comes  to  make 
the  region  his  abode,  he  finds  an  undulating  and  attractive 
scene,  which  he  soon  makes  more  attractive  by  the  culti- 
vation which  he  bestows  upon  it,  and  the  structures  that 
he  rears,  which  give,  as  seen  in  the  opposite  engraving,  an 
expression  of  human  occupancy  and  of  human  life  to  the 
scene. 

In  other  cases,  where  the  conditions  are  less  favorable  to 
the  formation  or  the  retention  of  soil  upon  the  rocks,  the 
effect  produced  by  the  sea,  combined  with  that  of  the  frost, 
is  to  form  landscapes  of  wild  and  savage  grandeur. 

An  example  of  this  kind  of  action  is  shown  in  the  fol- 
lowing engraving,  which  represents  a  view  in  the  Faroe 
Islands,  north  of  Scotland. 

One  might  at  first  wonder  how  it  could  happen  that  the 


WILD    SCENERY. 


295 


FOKMATION    OF   WILDER   SCENEKY. 


sea,  the  action  of  which  is  so  equable  and  regular,  could 
produce  such  varied  effects  in  the  line  of  any  coast,  so  as 
to  form  bays,  and  promontories,  and  steep  precipitous  cliffs, 
instead  of  wearing  away  the  upraised  strata  uniformly,  and 
thus  producing  only  one  long,  monotonous  line  of  coast. 
But  the  truth  is,  that,  though  most  strata  are  formed  orig- 
inally in  horizontal  beds  of  greater  or  less  regularity  of 
structure,  there  is  an  infinite  variety  in  the  condition  of 
different  portions  of  them,  and  in  the  manner  in  which  they 
are  acted  upon  by  the  elements  when  they  are  raised  into 
the  air.  Wherever  the  strata  which  form  the  line  of  the 
coast  are  really  uniform  in  their  structure,  the  action  of  the 
waves  upon  them  is  equable,  and  a  straight,  monotonous 


296  UPHEAVAL. 

shore  is  the  result.  But  sometimes,  in  the  process  of  up- 
heaval, vast  fissures  are  formed,  which  are  afterward  filled 
with  other  materials,  and  these  become  consolidated  into 
rock,  which  may  be  more  easily  or  less  easily  worn  away 
by  the  waves.  Then  the  same  stratum  may  be  harder  or 
softer  in  different  portions  of  it,  arising  from  causes  very 
imperfectly  understood.  Or  harder  strata  may  have  softer 
ones  underlying  them,  and  the  whole  system  be  so  inclined 
as  to  bring  a  comparatively  soft  stratum  in  one  place  near 
the  level  of  the  sea,  while  beyond  they  may  rise  above  or 
pass  below  the  reach  of  the  waves,  thus  affording  the  sea 
an  opportunity  to  undermine  and  bring  down  the  superin- 
cumbent rocks  at  one  point,  while  they  remain  compara- 
tively unchanged  to  the  right  and  the  left  of  it.  In  these 
cases,  and  in  a  countless  number  of  other  ways,  the  power 
of  any  upraised  strata  to  resist  the  action  of  the  sea — 
though  they  may  have  been  originally  deposited  in  com- 
paratively regular  layers — may  have  become  extremely  dif- 
ferent in  different  parts. 

Sometimes  the  comparatively  soft  portions  of  the  rock 
which  the  sea  acts  upon  extend  beneath  other  portions  so 
hard  and  firm  that  the  superincumbent  mass  does  not  fall 
down  when  it  is  undermined,  and  in  this  case  vast  caverns 
are  formed,  into  which  the  surges  in  storms  roll  in  with  in- 
describable fury  and  with  a  thundering  sound.  The  op- 
posite engraving  gives  a  view  of  a  cavernous  formation 
of  this  kind  as  seen  in  a  calm.  It  is  one  which  is  found  in 
one  of  the  islands  of  the  Japanese  Sea,  and  was  brought 
particularly  to  our  notice  by  the  famous  expedition  of  Com- 
modore Perry,  made  a  few  years  since,  to  Japan. 

There  are  other  modes,  it  is  true,  by  which  caverns  are 
formed,  some  of  which  have  been  referred  to  in  a  former 
chapter. 

Sometimes  extensive  tracts  of  land  lying  exposed  to  the 


FORMATION    OF    SLOPING    SHORES.  299 

action  of  the  sea,  as  along  the  coast  of  New  Jersey,  for  ex- 
ample, are  composed  of  beds  of  sand  or  gravel  easily  dis- 
integrated. These  may  have  been  originally  formed  by 
depositions  from  water,  or  they  may  have  accumulated  by 
the  action  of  ice.  In  either  case,  when  the  sea  wears  away 
the  lower  portions  of  them — that  is,  the  portion  which  the 
waves  can  reach — the  mass  above,  instead  of  remaining  in 
the  form  of  overhanging  cliffs,  or  of  roofs  of  caverns,  over 
the  portions  undermined,  falls  in  continually,  and  presents 
a  sloping  bank  toward  the  sea.  An  example  of  this  action 
is  shown  in  the  annexed  engraving,  representing  an  island 
in  the  region  of  the  upper  lakes. 


bllOUES   FOEMK1)    FKOM    STRATA   OF   GRAVEL. 

There  are  many  islands  where  this  process  is  going  on 
in  Boston  Harbor — or,  rather,  there  were  such,  but  the  pro- 
cess has  been  arrested  in  a  great  many  of  the  islands  by 
the  building  of  sea-walls  along  the  margin  of  the  water,  in 
order  to  prevent  the  filling  up  of  the  channels  in  the  har- 
bor by  the  sand  and  gravel  washed  away. 

It  does  not  require  a  very  high  wall  to  effect  the  object, 
for  it  is  only  along  a  narrow  line — a  few  feet  only  in  height 
— that  the  action  of  the  waves  takes  direct  effect;  and  if 
this  line  is  protected,  there  is  no  undermining  of  the  upper 


300  UPHEAVAL- 

portions  of  the  stratum,  and  the  island  or  shore  is  well  pre- 
sei-ved.  Such  sea-walls  are  built  in  many  places  to  arrest 
the  advance  of  the  sea.  In  other  places,  where  the  islands 
are  so  situated  that  it  is  less  important  to  preserve  them, 
or  the  land  on  any  shore  that  is  slowly  washing  away  is 
of  little  value,  the  sea  is  allowed  to  have  its  own  way,  and 
it  makes  steady  though  slow  progress  in  washing  away 
such  land.  Generally,  the  waste  is  so  gradual  as  to  pro- 
duce no  great  effect  during  the  life  of  any  one  generation ; 
but  in  countries  where  observations  are  made  and  records 
kept  by  many  successive  generations,  the  changes  that  are 
thus  produced  are  found  to  be  of  a  very  important  char- 
acter. In  various  parts  of  England,  for  example,  the  sea 
has  been  thus  encroaching  upon  the  land,  and  records  of 
its  progress  have  been  kept  for  many  centuries.  Places 
where  towns  formerly  stood  have  been  undermined  and 
swallowed  up  by  the  sea,  and  from  time  to  time,  even  now, 
buildings  are  taken  down  and  removed  farther  inland,  as 
the  line  of  the  shore  advances  toward  them,  as  the  only 
means  of  saving  them. 

Generally,  the  subsidence  of  the  upper  portion  of  the 
strata  takes  place  very  slowly,  chiefly  perhaps  by  the  wash- 
ing down  of  the  sand  and  gravel  above  by  the  rains  as  fast 
as  the  support  for  it  is  taken  away  by  the  wraves  from  be- 
low. Sometimes,  however,  the  under  strata  are  softened 
by  the  insinuation  of  water  from  the  sea  below,  or  by  the 
percolation  of  rain  from  above,  so  that  vast  tracts  of  sand 
and  gravel  slide  down  at  a  time.  We  have  had  accounts 
during  the  last  year  of  immense  land-slides  of  this  kind  in 
Cornwall,  which  lies  on  the  southwest  coast  of  England. 
In  one  of  them,  by  the  combined  action  of  heavy  rains  and 
of  frost,  a  large  part  of  a  cliff  sank  down  into  the  sea, 
carrying  with  it  twelve  houses,  and  greatly  endangering 
many  more.  At  another  place,  a  mass  of  rock,  estimated 


SLOW   MOTIONS   OF  SUBSIDENCE.  301 

to  weigh  five  or  six  hundred  tons,  went  down  fifty  feet  into 
the  sea. 

The  fall  in  these  cases  is  not  always  perpendicular,  or 
even  down  a  very  steep  incline.  Sometimes,  when  there 
is  a  gently  sloping  stratum  of  clayey  or  other  similar  for- 
mation, which  becomes  slippery  when  wet,  large  tracts  of 
superincumbent  strata,  with  fields,  forests,  and  sometimes 
houses  upon  them,  move  half  a  mile  or  more  down  a  gentle 
incline  by  a  slow  sliding  motion,  like  that  of  a  launching 
ship  gliding  smoothly  down  her  ways  into  the  water. 


302  MOUNTAINS    AND   VALLEYS. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

MOUNTAINS   AND    VALLEYS. 

ONE  of  the  first  things  that  strikes  the  mind  of  the  phil- 
osophical observer  when  he  commences  the  study  of  moun- 
tains and  of  mountain  chains  is  their  extreme  diminutive- 
ness  in  respect  to  elevation.  All  magnitude  is  of  course 
relative,  and  many  mountains  are  very  high  when  consid- 
ered in  relation  to  the  size  of  man,  and  even  to  the  powers 
of  conception  of  the  human  mind.  But  the  true  standard 
of  comparison  for  them  is  the  size  of  the  earth,  and  the  mag- 
nitude and  extent  of  the  strata  which,  in  being  thrown  out 
of  place  by  the  expansions  and  contractions  to  which  they 
are  subject,  produce  them,  and  in  this  point  of  view  the  ele- 
vation of  the  loftiest  mountain  chains  is  extremely  small. 

For  example,  the  highest  mountain  elevation  which  has 
yet  been  determined  is  that  of  some  of  the  peaks  of  the 
Himalayas,  which  are  found  to  rise  to  about  31,000  feet — 
not  far  from  six  miles  —  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Now 
this,  it  is  true,  in  relation  to  the  steps  which  so  small  an 
animal  as  man  takes  in  ascending  and  descending  heights, 
and  even  in  relation  to  the  ordinary  range  of  his  vision,  is 
a  very  considerable  altitude;  but  in  relation  to  the  mag- 
nitude of  the  earth,  and  to  the  extent  of  the  strata  by  the 
movement  of  which  they  are  formed,  it  is  so  small  that,  as 
we  obtain  any.  adequate  conception  of  this  magnitude  and 
this  extent,  and  of  the  inconceivable  energy  of  the  forces 
which  are  in  action  to  produce  the  upheavings,  we  wonder 
that  the  ridges  which  are  thrown  up  are  not  higher  than 
they  are. 


SMALL    ELEVATION    OF   MOUNTAINS.  305 

We  are  also  all  subject  to  a  great  illusion  in  respect  to  the 
steepness  of  mountain  sides.  When  we  ascend  any  incline 
— as,  for  example,  in  a  road  that  we  are  traveling — the  rise 
before  us  presents  itself  to  our  vision  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  cause  an  optical  illusion,  by  which  the  ascent  appears 
much  steeper  than  it  is.  This  effect  is  very  striking  in  the 
scenery  of  the  Highlands  on  the  Hudson  River.  Any  por- 
tion of  the  bank  of  the  river  which  is  directly  opposite  to 
the  point  where  the  steamer  from  which  we  view  it  is  pass- 
ing, looks  much  more  precipitous  than  the  same  bank  after 
we  have  passed  it  and  look  back  upon  it  in  profile. 

Thus  we  are  subject  to  a  double  illusion  in  respect  to 
the  configuration  of  mountains.  We  greatly  exaggerate 
the  precipitousness  of  their  sides  when  we  are  ascending 
them  or  are  viewing  them  in  front,  and  we  enormously 
overrate  their  magnitude  and  elevation  when  considered 
in  relation  to  the  size  of  the  earth  and  the  amount  of  up- 
heaving motion  required  to  produce  them. 

In  a  globe  sixteen  inches  in  diameter,  each  inch  would 
represent  five  hundred  miles,  the  diameter  of  the  earth  be- 
ing eight  thousand  miles.  Now  if  we  reckon  250  leaves 
— that  is,  500  pages — of  the  thickness  of  those  in  this  book 
to  an  inch,  we  shall  have  the  thickness  of  a  single  leaf  as 
the  representative  of  two  miles.  Now  the  highest  moun- 
tains on  the  globe,  namely,  certain  peaks  of  the  Himalayas, 
as  has  already  been  said,  have  been  recently  ascertained 
to  be  about  31,000  feet  high,  which  is  less  than  six  miles. 
Accordingly,  they  and  all  other  mountains  on  the  earth,  if 
they  were  embossed  in  their  proper  proportion  upon  a  globe 
sixteen  inches  in  diameter,  would  be  represented  by  eleva- 
tions of  the  surface  of  the  material  of  which  the  globe  was 
composed  not  higher  than  the  thickness  of  three  sheets  of 
such  paper  as  that  on  which  this  book  is  printed. 

It  is  probably  seldom  or  never  that  an  artificial  globe  is 


306  MOUNTAINS   AND   VALLEYS. 

constructed  without  greater  inequalities  than  this  being 
accidentally  left  upon  its  surface ;  and  when  we  consider 
that  the  whole  outer  crust  of  the  real  earth  is  in  an  inces- 
sant state  of  motion  —  swelling  here,  shrinking  there  —  a 
vast  region  in  one  place  being  slowly  arid  gradually  press- 
ed upward  until  at  length  such  a  state  of  tension  is  pro- 
duced that  when  it  relieves  itself  by  a  fissure  a  whole  con- 
tinent quakes,  and  in  another  a  slow  subsidence  of  equal 
extent,  and  under  the  action  of  equal  forces ;  and  that, 
moreover,  subterranean  fires  are  continually  raging,  and 
throwing  out,  from  time  to  time,  and  heaping  up  around 
their  openings,  vast  accumulations  of  lava  and  scoria,  we 
may  well  wonder  that  the  general  form  of  the  planet  as  a 
sphere  of  rotation  is  never  disturbed  to  a  greater  extent 
than  it  is  —  that  is,  in  proportion  of  three  thicknesses  of 
paper  to  a  globe  sixteen  inches  in  diameter.  The  fact 
seems  well  to  sustain  the  position  taken  at  the  commence- 
ment of  this  chapter,  namely,  that  when  we  first  begin  to 
consider  the  subject  of  mountains  in  a  philosophical  spirit, 
we  are  surprised  at  the  extreme  diminutiveness,  in  respect 
to  elevation,  that  even  the  loftiest  of  them  attain. 

Sometimes,  when  extensive  tracts  consisting  of  strata 
formed  under  the  sea  are  gradually  raised  above  the  level 
of  the  water  without  changing  their  horizontal  position, 
they  form  vast  plains  which,  in  process  of  time,  by  the  dis- 
integration of  the  rocky  material  at  the  surface,  and  the 
accumulation  of  vegetable  remains  upon  it,  are  covered 
with  soil.  Of  course,  immensely  long  periods  of  time  are 
required  for  such  transformations ;  but  it  is  supposed  that 
it  has  been  in  some  such  way  as  this  that  the  steppes,  and 
prairies,  and  great  sandy  deserts  which  are  found  to  exist 
in  some  parts  of  the  world  were  formed. 

When,  on  the  other  hand,  certain  portions  of  an  extend- 
ed system  of  strata  are  raised  to  a  great  height — that  is, 


FORMATION    OF    CLIFFS    AXD    RAVINES. 


301 


FOKMATIOX   OF   PLAINS. 


to  a  height  corresponding  to  the  thickness  of  two  or  three 
sheets  of  paper  on  a  sixteen-inch  globe  —  and  afterward 
fissures  are  produced  in  consequence  of  the  two  portions 
inclining  in  opposite  directions  while  the  central  portion 
is  raised,  or  from  lines  of  fracture,  with  a  support  for  the 
upraised  strata  on  one  side, "and  a  subsidence  of  them  on 
the  other — in  such  cases  as  these,  ranges  of  cliffs  or  chains 
of  mountains  would  be  formed,  of  very  slight  elevation,  it 
is  true,  in  relation  to  the  diameter  of  the  earth,  but  of  stu- 
pendous magnitude  as  measured  by  the  &enses  or  the  im- 
agination of  man. 

Of  course,  the  lowest  portion  of  such  ranges   of  cliffs 


308  MOUNTAINS    AND    VALLEYS. 

or  mountains  would  form  the  paths  or  channels  through 
which  the  water  from  the  rain  would  flow  and  avalanches 
would  slide.  By  these  means,  what  were  originally  mere 
depressions  would  become  ravines  and  valleys,  and  in 
many  cases  the  range  of  upraised  land  would  thus  be  di- 
vided into  distinct  mountains,  and,  in  process  of  time,  as 
the  torrents  and  the  avalanches  would  act  chiefly  upon 
the  sides  of  the  mountains,  while  the  tops  were,  in  great 
measure,  beyond  the  reach  of  these  influences,  the  decliv- 
ities would  become  more  and  more  abrupt,  and  the  several 
summits  of  the  ranges  might  assume  such  forms  as  would 
make  it,  at  first  view,  quite  difficult  to  imagine  how  they 
could  have  originated  in  the  simple  upheaval  of  a  broad 
expanse  of  horizontal  strata  from  the  sea. 

In  those  climates,  or  those  regions  of  altitude  where 
snow  and  ice  form  and  accumulate  upon  mountain  sides, 
the  action  of  the  elements  in  producing  cliffs  and  preci- 
pices is  specially  efficient ;  for  the  frost  opens  the  seams 
of  the  rocks  on  the  declivities,  and  the  ice,  forming  upon 
them  and  grasping  them  with  great  tenacity,  detaches 
and  brings  down,  in  its  fall  in  the  spring,  large  masses  of 
every  form  and  size.  Thus  it  happens  at  last  that  what 
was  at  first  a  vast  expanse  of  elevated  land,  and  was  then 
divided  by  water-worn  valleys  into  detached  hills  and 
mountains,  becomes  a  congeries  of  lofty  peaks,  so  sharp 
and  steep  that  they  are  called  needles,  and  often  excite  in 
us  a  feeling  of  wonder  how  such  steep  and  lofty  pinnacles 
could  have  been  formed. 

A  great  deal  depends,  in  respect  to  the  manner  in  which 
the  disintegration  of  strata  goes  on,  and  to  the  forms 
which  the  resulting  cliffs  and  precipices  assume,  on  the 
natural  seams  and  lines  of  cleavage  in  the  rocks  which  are 
brought  to  view  by  the  action  of  frost  or  water,  and  even 
sometimes,  as  it  would  seem,  by  the  mere  lapse  of  time. 


LINES    OF    FRACTURE. 


309 


For  some  mysterious  reason,  almost  all  strata,  whether 
they  are  deposited  from  water  or  cooled  from  a  state  of 
fusion  after  being  subjected  to  great  heat,  tend  to  break 
or  split  up  into  fragments,  eacli  formation  in  its  own  pecul- 
iar way.  Sometimes  like  slate,  or,  more  strikingly  still, 


310  MOUNTAINS    AND    VALLEYS. 

like  mica,  they  tend  to  divide  into  thin  layers — the  layers, 
in  the  case  of  mica,  being  extremely  thin.  At  other  times 
they  tend  to  break  into  square  blocks,  as  seen  in  the  ac- 
companying engraving. 


TENDENCY   TO   BREAK   INTO   BLOCKS. 


The  rock  which  shows  the  greatest  tendency  to  this 
kind  of  fracture,  in  the  progress  of  its  disintegration  un- 
der the  action  of  the  elements,  is  one  which  is  supposed  to 
have  been  produced  by  cooling  from  a  state  of  fusion,  and 
is  called  trap.  The  name  is  derived  from  a  foreign  word 
denoting  a  stair;  for  beds  of  it  are  found  in  various  parts 
of  the  world,  which,  in  their  decay,  form  series  of  steps — 
sometimes  so  regular  that  people  can  ascend  and  descend 
by  means  of  them  as  by  a  stair. 

There  are  other  formations  which  seem  to  have  been 
produced  by  cooling  from  a  state  of  fusion,  and  which,  in 
cooling,  have  assumed  a  semi-crystalline  structure,  so  as  to 


FORMATION    OB'    VALLEYS.  311 

form  vertical  columns,  more  or  less  regular,  in  the  differ- 
ent  localities  where  they  are  found.  This  formation  is 
seen  in  its  perfection  in  the  Giant's  Causeway,  so  called, 
in  Ireland,  and  in  Fingal's  Cave,  upon  an  island  on  the 
coast  of  Scotland.  A  tendency  to  the  same  structure  is 
seen  in  the  Palisades,  on  the  Hudson  River. 

There  is  something  very  interesting  and  very  remarka- 
ble in  what  has  been  learned  by  geologists  in  respect  to 
the  different  modes  by  which  valleys  are  formed  in  the 
process  of  erosion  of  rocky  or  earthy  strata  by  the  action 
of  water  upon  them.  In  former  chapters  of  this  work,  the 
manner  in  which  even  small  streams  may,  in  process  of 
time,  cut  a  deep  and  narrow  channel,  even  through  pretty 
hard  rocks,  has  been  described — namely,  by  falling  over  a 
brink  in  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and  undermining  the  strata 
below,  and  so  working  backward  until  a  narrow  and  deep 
ravine  has  been  cut,  extending,  perhaps,  for  many  miles. 
But  it  is  found  that  sometimes  the  passage-way  for  the 
water  is  opened,  in  the  first  instance,  by  a  fissure  through 
the  strata,  formed  in  the  strata  by  upheaval  or  subsidence, 
or  by  some  other  irregular  movement  produced  in  por- 
tions of  the  crust  of  the  earth  by  the  action  of  enormous 
pressure  from  without  or  within.  Such  a  fissure,  if  once 
formed,  would  open  a  passage  for  water  at  once,  and  some- 
times, after  water  had  been  flowing  through  it  for  a  great 
many  centuries,  and  the  sides  had  been  disintegrated  by 
the  action  of  the  elements,  and  perhaps  sloped  down  and 
covered  with  vegetation,  it  might  be  very  difficult  to  de- 
termine whether  the  passage-way  for  the  stream  had  been 
originally  opened  by  a  fissure  through  the  strata,  or  had 
been  entirely  cut  out  by  the  wearing  and  undermining 
power  of  the  water  itself. 

There  are  a  great  many  of  these  narrow  fissure-like  val- 
leys in  different  parts  of  the  world.  Those  that  have  real- 


312  MOUNTAINS   AND   VALLEYS. 

ly  originated  in  the  opening  of  a  crevice  in  the  rocks  arc 
called  valleys  of  fissure,  while  those  which  have  been  worn 
by  water,  or  by  the  action  of  ice,  are  called  valleys  of  ero- 
sion. Some  of  the  most  remarkable  of  the  latter  are  found 
in  Switzerland,  and  among  the  Pyrenees,  between  France 
and  Spain.  The  one  represented  in  the  opposite  engrav- 
ing is  a  chasm  among  the  mountains  of  Dauphiny,  in  the 
southeastern  part  of  France. 

One  of  the  country  roads  passes  across  this  chasm  by  a 
rude  bridge,  which,  together  with  the  ancient  and  primi- 
tive-looking approaches  to  it,  are  well  represented  in  the 
engraving. 

But,  besides  the  fractures  and  fissures  opened  among  the 
strata  of  rocks  by  the  slow  motions  of  expansion  and  con- 
traction to  which  the  whole  crust  of  the  earth  is  subject, 
there  are  violent  disturbances,  and  comparatively  extensive 
changes  produced  from  time  to  time,  in  different  parts  of 
the  earth,  by  volcanic  action.  These  volcanic  eruptions 
take  place  under  the  sea  as  well  us  upon  the  land,  a  repre- 
sentation of  one  of  which  may  be  seen  on  page  315. 

The  effects  produced  by  this  action,  though  they  are  very 
small  during  any  one  brief  period  of  time  compared  with 
the  magnitude  of  the  earth,  and  produce  relatively  very 
slight  changes  in  its  form,  are  sometimes  enormous  in  ref- 
erence to  the  works,  and  even  to  the  conceptions  of  man. 
A  single  stream  of  Java,  thrown  out  in  recent  times  at  one 
eruption,  covered  a  space  fifty  miles  long  and  fifteen  wide 
to  a  depth  of  500  feet.  The  cubical  contents  of  this  mass 
was  estimated  to  be  greater  than  that  of  Mount  Blanc,  and 
yet,  if  spread  over  the  whole  globe,  it  would  form  a  film 
of  inconceivable  tenuity. 

When  these  eruptions  take  place  on  land,  the  ejected 
matter  is  heaped  up  more  or  less  closely  around  the  orifice, 
the  successive  blasts  keeping  a  passage-way  open  in  the 


DISPOSITION-  OF  VOLOAXIC  MATTER. 


316 


centre  of  the  mass  like  a  vast  chimney.  Persons  sometimes 
wonder  how  it  happens  that  the  crater  of  a  volcano  is  al- 
ways upon  the  summit  of  a  mountain,  forgetting  that  it  is 
by  the  successive  eruptions  from  the  crater  that  the  moun- 
tain is  always  in  such  cases  formed. 

When  eruptions  take  place  beneath  the  sea,  the  ejected 
matter,  being  partially  buoyed  up  by  the  waters,  spreads 
horizontally  to  a  much  greater  distance  than  on  land,  so  as 
to  form  horizontal  strata  of  vast  extent,  especially  as  the 
ashes,  as  it  is  called,  and  the  scoria,  can  be  borne  away  by 
the  currents  very  far  from  the  point  where  they  were  eject- 
ed from  below. 

Thus,  in  picturing  to  our  minds  the  wonderful  processes 
by  which  the  existing  islands  and  continents  upon  the 
earth's  surface  have  been  formed,  we  have  greatly  to  en- 
large our  conceptions  of  the  vastness  of  the  results  which 


316  MOUNTAINS    AND    VALLEYS. 

can  be  effected  by  even  very  slow  and  apparently  insignifi- 
cant changes,  if  the  causes  producing  them  are  continued 
in  action  for  very  long  periods  of  time.  A  most  remarka- 
ble example  of  this  has  recently  been  broughfto  the  notice 
of  the  scientific  world  in  the  wearing  effect  of  sand  blown 
by  the  wind  over  a  surface  of  stone.  It  is  found  that  even 
the  agency  of  what  would  seem  so  very  slight  a  friction 
as  this  is  capable,  in  a  few  thousand  years,  of  producing  a 
very  sensible  effect.  Each  particle  of  silex,  which  com- 
poses the  sand,  in  being  driven  by  the  wind  along  an  ex- 
posed ledge  of  rock,  or  against  the  surface  of  a  monument 
on  the  margin  of  a  desert,  cuts  its  little  groove — a  groove 
too  minute,  perhaps,  to  be  detected  by  the  microscope  in 
any  single  instance,  but  as  real  and  as  great  in  proportion 
to  the  weight,  and  hardness,  and  velocity  of  the  tool  that 
cuts  it,  as  that  made  by  the  stone-cutter  himself  with  his 
heavy  hammer  and  his  chisel  of  steel ;  and,  though  the  ef- 
fect produced  by  one  such  stroke  is  wholly  imperceptible, 
the  accumulated  result  of  countless  millions  of  them  con- 
tinuing incessantly  at  the  work  for  two  or  three  thousand 
years  is  found  to  be  very  great.  And,  if  such  is  the  effect 
of  sand  blown  by  the  wind  for  a  few  thousand  years,  what 
may  we  not  expect,  the  geologist  asks,  from  the  infinitely 
more  efficient  agency  of  ice  grinding  its  way  over  strata 
of  rocks  and  gravel,  of  water  undermining  and  wearing 
away  steep  declivities,  of  land-slides,  inundations,  the  wear- 
ing of  billows  and  surges  on  the  ocean,  and  avalanches 
on  the  land,  continued  for  many  millions  of  centuries  ? 

In  addition  to  the  agencies  which  have  been  thus  far  de- 
scribed in  this  work  on  which  the  changes  in  the  configu- 
ration and  condition  of  the  earth  may  be  supposed  to  de- 
pend, there  is  one  other  which  ought  to  be  at  least  men- 
tioned here.  It  is  a  certain  cosmical  movement,  forming  a 


GRAND    CYCLE.  317 

cycle  of  about  22,000  years,  which  has  long  been  known  to 
astronomers,  and  which,  so  far  as  appears,  must  have  the 
effect  of  making  a  change  in  the  form  of  the  planet,  and, 
consequently,  in  its  condition — which,  though  exceedingly 
slight  in  relation  to  the  real  magnitude  of  the  earth,  might 
produce  results  of  almost  indescribable  importance  in  their 
bearings  on  the  condition  of  the  races  of  men  and  animals 
inhabiting  the  surface  of  it. 

There  is  something  very  curious  and  interesting  in  the 
cause  of  this  change,  and  in  the  general  principle  on  which 
it  depends,  which,  though  involving  certain  astronomical 
considerations,  is  not  very  difficult  to  be  understood.  It 
depends  primarily  upon  the  fact  that  the  orbit  of  the  earth 
is  not  an  exact  circle,  but  is  slightly  elliptical.  The  eccen- 
tricity of  the  ellipse — that  is,  its  deviation  from  the  circu- 
lar form — is  very  slight,  so  much  so  that  if  an  actual  circle 
were  drawn  upon  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  an  ellipse  repre- 
senting truly  the  orbit  of  the  earth  by  the  side  of  it,  the 
eye  would  scarcely  distinguish  one  figure  from  the  other. 
Still,  slight  as  the  eccentricity  is,  it  is  sufficient  to  make  a 
difference  of  about  seven  days  in  the  length  of  the  two  por- 
tions into  which  the  year  is  divided,  in  consequence  of  the 
sun's  being  placed  in  one  of  the  foci  of  the  ellipse,  instead 
of  being  in  the  centre  of  a  circle. 

At  the  present  time,  and  for  several  thousand  years  now 
passed,  it  is  the  northern  hemisphere  and  the  north  pole 
which  is  turned  toward  the  sun  during  this  longer  divi- 
sion of  its  orbit,  so  that  the  summer  for  this  hemisphere  is 
a  few  days  longer  than  it  is  for  the  southern  hemisphere. 
This  state  of  things  is,  however,  gradually  changing,  so 
that  in  about  ten  or  twelve  thousand  years  it  will  be  re- 
versed, and  then  the  southern  hemisphere  will  have  its 
summer  longer  than  ours.  The  change  will,  however,  take 
place  very  gradually,  requiring,  as  it  does,  a  cycle  of  about 
22,000  years  for  its  completion. 


318  MOUNTAINS    AND    VALLEYS. 

Now  some  very  exact  calculations  have  been  recently 
made,  especially  by  the  French  astronomer  Adhemar,  to 
determine  the  nature  of  the  effects  which  must  be  pro- 
duced on  the  condition  of  the  globe  by  this  alternation  in 
the  comparative  lengths  of  summer  and  winter  for  the 
two  hemispheres,  and  it  has  been  shown  that  the  effect 
must  be  to  increase  perceptibly — though  slightly  in  rela- 
tion to  the  bulk  of  the  globe  —  an  accumulation  of  ice 
around  each  pole  during  the  period  while  its  winters  are 
long.  I  say  slightly  in  relation  to  the  bulk  of  the  earth, 
for  the  stratum  of  accumulated  ice  which  would  be  form- 
ed would  be  only  in  proportion — to  use  our  former  illus- 
tration— to  the  thickness  of  two  or  three  sheets  of  paper 
upon  a  globe  of  sixteen  inches  in  diameter !  And  yet, 
slight  as  this  change  is  when  considered  in  reference  to 
the  globe  itself,  it  is  enormous  in  relation  to  the  percep- 
tions and  to  the  condition  of  man ;  for  such  a  stratum  of 
ice  would  be  actually  several  miles  thick,  and  would  ex- 
tend down  from  the  pole,  it  is  calculated,  as  far  nearly,  in 
this  hemisphere,  as  the  latitude  of  Boston  ! 

The  effect  of  this  building  up  gradually,  in  the  course 
of  some  thousands  of  years,  of  a  stratum  of  solid  ice  two 
or  three  miles  thick,  like  a  cap,  all  over  one  pole,  and  the 
melting  and  flowing  away  of  an  equal  amount  from  the 
other,  would,  of  course,  be  to  carry  the  centre  of  gravity 
of  the  whole  mass,  by  an  exceedingly  slow  motion,  a  few 
miles  to  the  northward  and  to  the  southward  alternately. 

In  other  words,  a  cap  of  ice  several  miles  in  thickness — 
that  is,  of  a  thickness  equal  to  the  height  of  the  highest 
mountains — would  be  gradually  accumulated,  during  a  pe- 
riod of  ten  or  twelve  thousand  years,  over  one  pole — the 
southern,  for  example — while  a  similar  cap,  that  had  been 
previously  formed  over  and  around  the  northern  pole, 
would  be  gradually  wasted  away,  and  the  waters  from  it 


BLOW    PROGRESS    OF   THE    CHANGE.  319 

would  flow  to  the  southward.  And  then,  as  the  grand 
cycle  rolled  on,  the  process  would  at  length  be  reversed, 
and  the  mass  of  accumulated  ice  would  melt  away  from 
the  south  pole,  and  form  and  gather  again  at  the  northern 
one,  and  so  on,  by  a  mighty  flux  and  reflux,  to  and  fro, 
from  the  arctic  circle  to  the  antarctic,  and  from  the  ant- 
arctic back  to  the  arctic  again,  once  in  every  22,000  years, 
forever. 

Although  the  changes  in  the  form  of  the  earth,  or,  rath- 
er, in  the  disposition  of  the  materials  composing  it,  that 
would  be  produced  by  this  process  would  be  so  slight 
that,  when  represented  upon  a  globe  sixteen  inches  in  di- 
ameter, they  would  be  almost  wholly  imperceptible,  they 
would  lead  to  the  most  momentous  results  in  respect  to 
the  occupancy  of  the  earth  by  man,  and,  indeed,  to  the 
condition  of  it  as  appreciated  by  his  observation.  In  the 
first  place,  the  ice,  in  its  gradual  process  of  formation, 
would  not  be  fixed,  but  would  have  a  slow,  progressive 
motion  down  every  incline,  as  shown  in  existing  glaciers. 
The  result  of  this  would  be  to  produce  enormous  effects 
of  abrasion  and  erosion  all  over  those  portions  of  the  earth 
covered  by  it.  Then,  by  the  accumulation  of  ice  over  one 
pole,  and.  the  drawing  of  the  water  toward  it,  the  land 
around  the  former  would  be,  in  a  great  measure,  covered, 
and  what  would  appear  to  be  a  vast  continent  of  ice  would 
take  its  place ;  while  the  land  not  so  covered  with  the  ice 
would  be  overflowed  with  water,  for  the  seas  in  the  whole 
region  would  be  greatly  deepened — that  is  to  say,  great- 
ly in  the  estimation  of  man,  for  a  depth  of  three  or  four 
miles,  though  only  represented  by  the  thickness  of  two  or 
three  sheets  of  paper  on  a  sixteen-inch  globe,  would  be 
sufficient  to  cover  a  very  large  portion  of  the  land  in  any 
part  of  the  world  where  it  prevailed. 

The  melting  and  breaking  up  of  such  an  immense  mass 


320  MOUNTAINS    AND    VALLEYS. 

of  ice  in  one  hemisphere,  and  the  transposition  of  the  wa- 
ter resulting  from  it  to  the  other,  must  produce  inconceiv- 
ably grand  results  in  the  breaking  down  of  barriers,  wear- 
ing away  of  strata,  and  in  producing  tensions  and  strains 
iu  the  whole  solid  crust  of  the  globe,  which  would  be  re- 
lieved by  cracks  and  fissures,  and  other  convulsions,  giv- 
ing rise  to  such  tremors  as  we  experience  in  the  shocks  of 
earthquakes. 

And  yet,  vast  as  the  effects  would  be  in  character  and 
amount,  they  would  be  produced  by  causes  operating 
through  periods  of  such  immense  duration  that  they,  per- 
haps, would  lead  at  no  one  time  during  the  whole  process 
of  it  to  scenes  of  any  greater  violence  or  commotion  than 
are  experienced  on  the  earth  now  every  year.  Indeed,  if 
such  a  process  is  going  on  at  all,  we  are  in  the  midst  of 
the  progress  of  it  now. 

There  is  a  strong  confirmation  of  these  views  in  the  fact 
that  the  state  of  things  at  the  present  day,  both  in  the 
northern  and  southern  hemispheres,  is  precisely  such  as 
would  accord  with  them.  It  is  the  turn  of  the  southern 
pole  to  have  its  cold  and  icy  season  now,  and  it  is,  ac- 
cordingly, surrounded  with  what  appear  to  be  continents 
of  ice,  vastly  greater  and  more  extended  than  are  found 
around  the  north  pole.  The  seas  in  that  region,  too,  are 
very  deep,  and  very  few  tracts  of  land  —  and  those  only 
such  as  seem  to  be  the  summits  of  mountains — are  visible. 
In  the  northern  hemisphere,  on  the  other  hand,  vast  tracts 
of  land  are  bare,  and  are  covered  with  vegetation,  and  oc- 
cupied by  countless  races  of  animals  and  men,  while  still 
the  land  itself,  thus  exposed  now  to  view,  has  every  ap- 
pearance of  having  in  former  ages  been  covered  and  swept 
over  by  fields  of  ice,  or  of  having  been  submerged  in  the 


PROGRESS   OF   THE  JOURNEY.  321 


CHAPTER  XXYI. 

CONCLUSION. 

BUT  we  must  not  forget  our  party  of  travelers,  Law- 
rence, Theodora,  and  John,  whom  we  left  long  ago  pursu- 
ing their  journey  in  the  train  to  New  York.  In  the  course 
of  the  various  conversations  which  they  had  together  dur- 
ing the  day,  Lawrence  had  explained  to  his  companions 
most  of  the  facts  and  processes  which  have  been  described 
in  the  preceding  chapters.  They  have  been  given  here  in 
a  somewhat  more  compact  and  concise  form  than  was 
possible  for  Lawrence  in  his  talks  along  the  way,  which 
were,  of  course,  very  much  interrupted,  not  only  by  the 
changes  in  the  programme  which  they  had  established, 
but  also  by  the  various  incidents  of  the  journey  which 
were  constantly  occurring. 

Lawrence  did  nothing,  in  fact,  to  prevent,  or  even  to  di- 
minish such  interruptions,  as  his  principal  object  in  giving 
these  scientific  lessons  on  a  journey  was  to  make  the  time 
pass  more  pleasantly ;  for  he  well  knew  that  a  whole  day 
devoted  to  pleasure  or  spent  in  inaction  is  apt  to  be  te- 
dious, and  that  the  tedium  of  it  is  much  diminished  by  de- 
voting a  portion  of  the  time  to  the  performance  of  some- 
thing of  the  nature  of  duty,  as,  for  example,  the  acquisi- 
tion of  useful  knowledge  of  some  kind. 

Dorrie  became  very  much  interested  in  the  information 
which  Lawrence  imparted  in  these  conversations  —  the 
more  so,  that  the  knowledge  came  to  her  in  a  plain,  sim- 
ple, and  matter-of-fact  form,  which  made  it  seem  much 
more  real,  and  connected  itself  more  closely  with  the  <>b- 
O  2 


322  CONCLUSION. 

serrations  and  experience  of  daily  life  than  that  which 
was  obtained  by  learning  and  reciting  lessons  from  books. 
She  was  particularly  interested  in  the  new  views  of  the 
ocean  as  the  great  centre  of  life  and  movement  for  the 
planet  —  the  great  repairer  and  remodeler  of  the  globe, 
sending  out  continually  its  agents  or  messengers  in  vapors 
and  clouds  to  roam  over  all  lands,  to  descend  in  rain  on 
all  the  highest  elevations  which  needed  most  to  be  re- 
duced, and  there  prosecuting  incessantly  the  work  of  dis- 
integration, and  bringing  the  proceeds  by  millions  of  rivu- 
lets and  streams — not  only  from  these  mountains,  but  from 
every  hill,  and  even  every  plain,  ever  so  little  raised  above 
the  level  of  the  sea — as  materials  for  the  great  work  of 
laying  the  foundations  of  new  continents  in  the  depths  of 
the  ocean,  to  be  raised  to  light  and  air  in  future  ages. 

"I  should  think  that  all  those  sweeping  and  whirling 
currents  in  the  water  would  carry  the  ships  out  of  their 
courses,"  said  she, "  so  that  they  could  not  find  their  way 
at  all." 

"They  do  carry  them  out  of  their  way,"  said  Lawrence, 
"  surely,  though  slowly,  so  that  the  seamen  have  to  verify 
their  position  very  often  by  the  sun  and  the  stars." 

"I  should  not  think  that  rough  sailors  would  know 
enough  for  that,"  said  Dorrie. 

"They  learn,"  replied  Lawrence — "that  is,  the  officers 
do ;  and,  though  they  look  sometimes  rather  rough  and 
weather-beaten,  they  understand  well  all  that  relates  to  the 
movements  of  the  sun  and  stars,  and  to  the  use  of  the  quad- 
rants, and  sextants,  and  other  nice  instruments  required  in 
making  the  observations  which  enable  them  to  determine 
precisely  where  they  are  whenever  the  sun  or  the  stars 
come  into  view." 

While  the  party  were  talking  in  this  manner  the  train 
was  stopping  at  a  way-station,  and  it  soon  occurred  to  John 


A    DETENTION. 


323 


TAKING  AN   OB8EKVATIOX. 


that  they  were  stopping  an  unusually  long  time.  So  he 
went  out  to  the  platform  to  inquire  for  the  cause  of  the  de- 
lay, and  soon  came  back  saying  that  they  were  waiting  for 
another  train. 

"  And  how  long  have  we  got  to  wait  ?"  asked  Lawrence. 

John  said  he  did  not  know.  They  might  have  to  wait 
half  an  hour,  he  said. 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Dorrie ;  "  no  matter  if  we  are  a  lit- 
tle late  in  getting  in.  And  I  am  going  to  use  the  time  in 
writing  an  account  of  what  Mr.  Wollaston  has  been  telling 
me  to  put  into  my  note-book.  Did  you  know  I  keep  a 
note-book,  Mr.  Wollaston  ?" 

"  I  did  not  know  it,"  said  Lawrence,  "but  I  am  glad  you 
do.  It  is  an  excellent  plan  to  have  a  book  for  such  a  pur- 
pose, for  what  you  record  in  a  book  you  fix  by  that  very 
act  almost  indelibly  in  your  memory.  And,  besides,  noth- 


324  CONCLUSION. 

ing  makes  the  time  pass  so  quickly  while  we  are  waiting 
as  having  something  in  the  way  of  writing  to  do." 

So  Dorrie  took  out  a  very  pretty  little  portfolio  from  her 
traveling  bag,  and,  placing  her  bag  in  her  lap  for  a  desk, 
she  took  from  the  portfolio  a  delicate  sheet  of  gilt-edged 
note-paper  and  a  pencil,  and  assumed  a  musing  attitude, 
as  if  preparing  to  write. 

"  I  have  a  great  mind  to  write  it  in  poetry,"  said  she. 

"  I  would  do  that,"  replied  Lawrence.  "  It  will  be  the 
poetry  of  science,  and  the  poetry  of  science  is  charming." 

"  Then,  John,  you  must  not  interrupt  me,"  said  Dorrie. 
"If  you  do  you'll  put  me  out." 

John  said  he  would  not  interrupt  her ;  he  would  be  as 
still  as  a  mouse.  In  fact,  he  took  out  his  writing  materials 
and  prepared  to  write  something  too.  Lawrence  seemed 
disposed  to  employ  his  time  in  thinking. 

The  train  was  detained  by  the  obstruction,  whatever  it 
was,  for  more  than  half  an  hour.  At  the  end  of  the  time 
the  cry  "  ALL  ABOARD  !"  was  heard  from  the  platform,  and 
Dome's  poetical  labors  were  brought  to  a  sudden  close. 

"  I  did  not  have  quite  time  to  finish,"  said  she. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Lawrence ;  "  read  it  to  us  as  far  as 
you  have  gone." 

"  Well,"  said  Dorrie.  "  Only  you  must  not  criticise  it 
too  much." 

So  Dorrie  began  as  follows : 

"  Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean"— 

"Why,  that's  from  Byron,"  said  John,  interrupting — 
"  the  very  words  you  quoted  a  little  while  ago." 

"  Yes,"  said  Dorrie,  "  I  know  it  is  from  Byron  so  far.  I 
always  begin  with  a  little  of  Byron  when  I  write  poetry, 
just  to  give  me  a  start." 

"  That's  a  very  good  plan,"  said  Lawrence.     "  Go  on." 


A   POETICAL   ABSTRACT.  325 

"  I  must  begin  again,"  said  Dorrie. 

"  Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean — ever  busy 

Roaring  and  foaming  on  thy  mighty  way ; 
To  think  of  thine  eternal  whirling  makes  me  dizzy, 
Always  at  work,  though  seeming  all  in  play. 

"  Thou  sendest  forth  a  mighty  host  of  runners 

To  gather  thy  supplies  from  every  land ; 
Please  not  to  class  this  poet  among  punners" — 

"  The  proper  word  there  I  know  is  punsters"  said  Dorrie, 
interrupting  herself, "  but  that  would  not  rhyme." 

"  Then  you  did  perfectly  right  to  say  punners,"  replied 
Lawrence.  "The  rhyme  is  one  of  the  most  important 
things  in  poetry." 

"  Except  in  blank  verse,"  said  John. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lawrence, "  except  blank  verse.  But  go  on, 
Miss  Random,  we  like  to  hear  it  very  much." 

So  Dorrie  resumed  her  reading : 

"Thou  sendest  forth  a  mighty  host  of  runners 

To  gather  thy  supplies  from  every  land ; 

Please  not  to  class  this  poet  among  punners 

For  giving  such  a  name  to  such  a  band. 

"  They  really  are  the  runners  of  the  ocean ; 

He  sends  them  forth  in  vapors  and  in  rain 
To  do  his  work  in  ever  ceaseless  motion 
On  every  mountain  slope  and  grassy  plain. 

"  So  they  are  doubly  runners ;  they  go  ont 

To  gather  grist  for  his  eternal  mill ; 
Then  home  by  courses  sure,  though  roundabout, 
Bringing  their  loads  from  every  distant  hill." 

"  I  don't  like  the  last  verse  very  well,"  said  Dorrie,  as 
she  finished  her  reading,  "  and  should  have  altered  it  if  I 
had  time,  but  he  said  'All  aboard*  a  little  too  soon." 

"  That's  the  advantage,"  said  Lawrence,  "  of  being  em- 
ployed in  some  kind  of  writing  to  pass  the  time  when  we 


326  CONCLUSION. 

are  waiting.  Nothing  is  so  effectual  to  make  the  time 
pass  quick,  or,  rather,  to  keep  the  idea  that  we  are  waiting 
out  of  our  minds.  The  end  comes  even  sometimes  before 
we  are  ready  for  it." 

The  train,  having  resumed  its  course,  met  with  no  far- 
ther detention.  Indeed,  the  engineer  and  firemen  made 
the  fires  burn  somewhat  more  briskly  under  the  boiler  of 
the  locomotive  so  as  to  make  up  in  some  degree  for  the 
lost  time,  and  the  train  arrived,  after  all,  at  the  station  in 
New  York  not  much  later  than  the  usual  hour.  Lawrence 
engaged  a  carriage  at  the  station  and  took  Miss  Random 
to  her  destination,  which  was  a  large  and  handsome  house 
near  the  Fifth  Avenue.  Miss  Random,  in  bidding  Law- 
rence good-by  when  she  arrived  at  the  door,  thanked  him 
very  cordially  for  his  kind  attentions  to  her  on  the  jour- 
ney, and  for  all  the  information  he  had  given  her.  She 
said  she  was  very  glad  indeed  that  she  came  with  him 
and  John  instead  of  remaining  at  Carleton  for  Thanksgiv- 
ing. 

"  Besides,"  she  said,  "  you  and  John  will  come  and  see 
me  Thanksgiving  evening.  The  friends  of  the  girls — that 
is,  of  those  that  remain  at  the  school  through  the  holidays 
— always  come  and  see  them  Thanksgiving  evening,  and 
we  have  games  and  plays." 

Lawrence  readily  accepted  this  invitation  both  for  him- 
self and  John,  and  then  was  taken  to  the  hotel  where  they 
were  to  spend  the  night. 

When  Thanksgiving  evening  came,  they  went,  accord- 
ing to  their  promise,,  to  make  a  visit  to  Miss  Random. 
They  were  introduced  at  once  into  the  parlors,  where  a 
very  brilliant  and  pleasing  scene  was  presented  to  their 
view. 

There  were  several  groups  of  young  ladies  sitting  in 
different  parts  of  the  room,  and  in  a  room  beyond  there 


AN    EVENING   CALL.  329 

was  a  glimpse  of  children  playing.  Miss  Random  was 
sitting  on  a  sofa  near  the  door,  awaiting  the  coming  of 
her  friends,  .and  she  received  them,  when  they  came,  with 
great  cordiality,  and,  in  accordance  with  the  usage  of  the 
school  in  such  cases,  she  conducted  both  Lawrence  and 
John  to  a  seat  where  one  of  the  principals  of  the  school 
was  sitting,  and  introduced  them  to  her.  Then  she  led 
them  to  a  seat  by  themselves,  and,  after  talking  with  them 
both  a  few  minutes,  she  called  to  a  young  girl  who  was 
passing  through  the  room,  addressing  her  as  Louise,  and 
after  introducing  Lawrence  and  John  to  her,  asked  her  if 
she  could  not  find  some  books  of  engravings  to  entertain 
John  with. 

Louise  said  she  should  be  very  glad  to  do  so,  and  she 
led  John  away  to  another  part  of  the  room,  where  there 
was  a  table,  and  she  brought  one  or  two  books  of  engrav- 
ings, which  she  and  John  looked  over  together. 

In  the  mean  time  Miss  Random  introduced  Lawrence  to 
some  of  her  particular  friends  among  the  pupils,  so  that 
he,  as  well  as  John,  soon  began  to  feel  very  much  at  home. 

The  evening  passed  very  agreeably,  and  about  ten 
o'clock  Lawrence  and  John  took  their  leave. 

Before  they  went,  however,  Lawrence  asked  Miss  Ran- 
dom to  give  him  a  copy  of  the  verses  that  she  wrote  on 
the  circulation  of  water  from  the  ocean  over  the  land,  and 
back  to  the  ocean  again,  to  gather  and  bring  supplies  for 
the  work  which  the  ocean  has  to  do. 

"  And  me  too,"  said  John. 

"Oh  no, Mr.Wollaston,"  said  Dorrie, "I  could  not  think 
of  such  a  thing.  I  only  wrote  them  to  pass  away  the 
time,  and  to  put  into  my  note-book  as  a  souvenir  of  my 
journey,  which  I  enjoyed  so  much." 

"And  why  can't  you  give  me  a  copy  of  them  for  a  souv- 
enir of  the  journey  for  me  ?" 


330  CONCLUSION. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  that  would  do,"  said  Dorrie. 

"You  might  give  me  a  copy,  at  any  rate,"  said  John. 

"  I  might  possibly  give  you  a  copy,"  said  Dorrie,  "  but  I 
should  not  think  of  such  a  thing  as  giving  a  copy  to  Mr. 
Wollaston." 

"  Suppose  you  give  a  copy  to  John,  I  might  buy  them 
of  him,  and  so  get  them  in  that  way,"  said  Lawrence. 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Dorrie,  "  if  I  give  them  to  John,  he  can 
do  what  he  pleases  with  them  afterward.  I  will  see  about 
it,  and  tell  you  when  I  see  you  again.  Of  course  you  will 
come  and  see  me  again  before  you  go  back  to  Carleton  ?" 

Lawrence  promised  to  do  so,  and  then  he  and  John  took 
their  leave. 


...../../._../   Date -« 

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